. 


JVo 

Division 

Range 

Shelf 

Received 


e&Jte*isi2. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA. 


GIFT  OF 


WILLIAM  CJ1LMAN  THOMPSON. 


In    Press. 
TRAGEDY   OF   ERRORS. 


"7  7 

: 


RECORD 


OF 


AN    OBSCURE    MAN 


"Aux  plus  ddsh<*rit£s  le  plus  d' amour." 


BOSTON: 
TIGKNOR   AND    FIELDS. 

1861. 


5~ 


I  7 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress  in  the  year  1861,  by 

TICKNOR  AND  FIELDS, 
in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  for  the  District  of  Massachusetts. 


RIVERSIDE,   CAMBRIDGE: 
•TEREOTTPED  AND  PRINTED  BY  H.  0.  HOUGHTON. 


/       .  .  "A 
•  I 


l 


KECOED   OF  AN  OBSCUEE  MAN. 


I. 

IN  the  spring  of  1842  I  made  a  tour  through 
some  of  the  Southern  and  Southwestern  States.  I 
travelled  chiefly  on  horseback,  —  partly  for  health, 
partly  on  account  of  the  greater  opportunity  thus 
afforded  for  those  way-side  adventures  which  give 
such  a  zest  to  the  rambles  of  a  young  man  journey 
ing  without  any  definite  object.  I  met  with  many, 
—  some  piquant  enough,  others  far  from  charming. 
But  all  seem  pleasant  in  the  distance ;  and  these, 
my  earliest  travelling-experiences,  furnished  me 
long,  and  furnish  me  still,  with  stuff  for  many  an 
after-dinner  story  and  many  an  evening  reverie. 

Among  the  incidents  of  this  youthful  excursion 
was  one  of  the  more  quiet  sort,  to  which  my 
thoughts  have  reverted  oftener  than  to  the  many 
comic  adventures  or  even  to  the  hair-breadth  es 
capes  that  have  entertained  my  listeners.  Yet,  up 
to  this  time,  it  has  been  shared  with  no  one.  I 
now  first  break  the  seal  of  silence  which  some  feel 
ing  inexplicable  to  myself  has  laid  upon  my  lips, 
and  open  at  once  to  the  great  public  a  corner  of  my 


2  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

life  into  which  neither  intimate  acquaintance  nor 
trusted  friend  has  hitherto  looked. 

At  the  close  of  an  April  day,  hotter  than  in  the 
North  we  often  know  in  June,  I  was  surprised  by 
one  of  those  sudden  storms  of  rain  and  lightning  so 
common  in  Southern  regions.  The  night  came  on 
prematurely,  bringing  with  it  a  thick  darkness  that 
might  be  felt.  This,  taking  turns  with  the  frequent 
blaze  of  blinding  lightning,  at  length  completely 
bewildered  and  discouraged  me,  tired  as  I  was,  and 
following  a  strange  road,  with  no  very  clear  idea 
of  my  place  of  destination.  I  let  my  horse  take  his 
own  way,  and,  sitting  listlessly  in  the  saddle,  judged 
of  our  progress  and  of  the  nature  of  the  route  on 
ly  by  the  sound  of  the  poor  beast's  feet,  as  they 
sank  softly  in  the  moist  sand,  or  plashed  in  the 
swollen  torrents  that  now  and  then  burst  across 
the  path. 

I  had  gone  forward  in  this  way  for  about  an 
hour,  when  I  was  roused  from  my  half-stupor  by 
the  sudden  stopping  of  my  horse.  I  looked  up,  and 
saw  near  me  on  the  right  a  friendly  glimmer,  sent, 
apparently,  from  the  window  of  a  not  distant  house, 
of  which  a  flash  of  lightning  soon  gave  me  a  more 
distinct  view.  When  the  peal  of  thunder  had  died 
away,  I  lifted  up  my  voice ;  for  a  fence  lay  between 
me  and  the  promised  shelter  ;  and  the  lightning, 
now  less  frequent,  hardly  sufficed  to  guide  me  to 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  3 

the  entrance.  My  appeal  was  not  lost.  The  light 
on  which  my  eyes  were  fixed  moved;  a  window 
was  heard  to  open.  I  repeated  my  call ;  but,  be 
fore  I  had  time  to  explain  my  situation,  the  win 
dow  was  hastily  closed,  and  in  another  moment  a 
light  was  seen  moving  from  the  direction  of  the 
house  and  coming  by  a  somewhat  circuitous  path 
towards  me.  The  bearer  soon  reached  me,  guided 
by  my  voice,  and,  with  a  simple  "  Good  evening," 
spoken  in  a  tone  which  assured  me  I  had  fallen  into 
no  unfriendly  hands,  opened  the  gate  against  which 
my  horse  was  already  pressing.  The  gleam  of  the 
lantern  led  me  through  the  black  darkness  to  the 
house.  My  guide  threw  open  the  door,  as  I  some 
what  slowly  brought  to  the  ground  my  cramped 
and  dripping  limbs,  and,  leaving  me  to  find  my 
way  by  myself,  led  off  my  horse,  whose  lively  step 
betrayed  that  he  hailed  the  prospect  of  a  shelter 
with  as  much  satisfaction  as  his  master.  I  eager 
ly  gained  the  doorway,  through  which  the  light 
streamed  invitingly ;  but  paused  when  I  had  passed 
the  threshold,  and  turned  quickly  to  close  the  door 
and  exclude  the  damp  night-wind. 

The  most  conspicuous  object  in  the  room  I  had 
entered  was  a  low  couch,  on  which  was  extended  a 
woman,  whose  pale  features  I  saw  distinctly  by  the 
light  of  the  lamp  which  stood  on  a  little  table  near 
her.  She  was  giving  directions  to  a  black  woman 


4        RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

who  was  busy  near  the  fire,  which,  to  my  great 
contentment,  glowed  on  the  wide  hearth.  I  was 
struck,  even  in  the  moment  of  entering,  by  the 
gentleness  of  the  speaker's  voice,  contrasting,  as  it 
did,  with  the  imperious  tones  to  which  my  ear  had 
become  habituated  during  the  weeks  I  had  passed 
in  the  Southern  country.  As  I  hesitated  to  ad 
vance,  she  addressed  me  with  courtesy  and  invited 
me  to  approach  the  fire.  I  obeyed  her  gladly. 
The  black  woman,  who,  on  my  sudden  entrance, 
had  advanced  into  the  middle  of  the  floor,  had 
stood  erect  and  watchful,  until  she  saw  the  impres 
sion  made  on  her  mistress  by  the  new  guest.  She 
now  returned  to  the  hearth,  and,  after  a  quick 
glance  of  inspection,  offered  me  welcome  in  her 
turn  by  heaping  wood  on  the  fire.  The  blaze  rose 
high,  and,  through  its  influence,  I  had  already 
sufficiently  recovered  myself,  by  the  time  our  host 
reentered,  to  return  with  grateful  cordiality  the 
greeting  he  offered  me. 

My  till  now  unseen  friend  was  a  man  a  little 
above  the  middle  height,  apparently  about  thirty 
years  of  age.  He  had  in  his  appearance  and  man 
ners  little  of  the  backwoodsman  and  still  less  of 
the  small  planter.  He  wore  a  blouse  of  homely 
material,  confined  round  the  waist  by  a  leath 
ern  belt.  This  rude  costume  —  about  that  time 
much  affected  on  summer  excursions  by  young 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  5 

men  of  fashion  in  the  Northern  and  Middle  States 
—  had,  on  his  erect  and  slender  figure,  a  certain 
picturesque  grace,  and  seemed  rather  to  have  been 
assumed  through  caprice  than  worn  as  matter  of 
custom  and  necessity.  Having  offered  me  welcome, 
he  forestalled  my  inquiries  by  assuring  me  of  the 
well-being  of  my  horse.  He  had  brought  with 
him  my  saddle-bags,  and  invited  me  to  follow  him 
to  an  upper  room  where  I  could  relieve  myself  of 
my  wet  garments.  A  steep,  narrow  staircase,  or 
rather  a  sort  of  ladder,  led  to  this  room,  which  was 
evidently  his  own.  As  my  bags  could  not  be  sup 
posed  to  contain  a  very  extensive  wardrobe,  he  took 
from  a  trunk  and  offered  me  a  linen  blouse  of  the 
same  fashion  with  that  which  he  wore,  but  of  finer 
material.  Requesting  me  to  make  use  of  any  other 
article  I  might  need,  he  left  me.  From  the  open 
trunk  rose  the  fresh  odor  of  the  herbs  which  old- 
fashioned  New  England  housewives  dispose  be 
tween  the  layers  of  newly  washed  linen.  The 
wholesome  fragrance  carried  me  back  to  the  hap 
piest,  freest  days  of  my  childhood,  —  those  days  of 
vacation  passed  on  the  ancestral  farm,  under  the 
gentle  control  of  my  patient  grandmother.  I  stood 
again  in  the  low  room,  before  the  great  oaken  chest- 
of-drawers.  I  heard  the  whispering  of  the  poplars 
that  bordered  the  terraced  garden,  and  the  tap  of 
the  woodpecker  in  the  elm  whose  remaining  half 


6  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAX. 

shaded  the  rustic  well.  The  illusion,  transient  as 
it  was,  lent  something  home-like  and  familiar  to 
my  temporary  shelter.  The  feelings  it  had  called 
up  had  hardly  passed  away  when  I  joined  my 
host  in  the  lower  room. 

I  found  the  supper-table  spread.  I  was  invited 
to  take  my  place  at  it  in  the  most  comfortable  chair 
the  house  afforded.  I  now  felt  sufficiently  at  ease 
to  take  a  survey  of  the  apartment  and  its  furniture. 
Both  were  of  an  humble  character.  But  perfect 
neatness  and  order  prevailed ;  and  over  all  was  dif 
fused  an  air  of  comfort  which  I  had  often  missed 
in  the  more  sumptuous  mansions  I  had  visited  in 
my  tour,  and  which  I  had  not  before  met  with  in 
the  houses  of  persons  of  the  class  to  which  I  must 
suppose  my  entertainers  belonged.  The  table,  with 
its  glossy  cloth,  its  bright  knives,  and  the  unusual 
luxury  of  napkins,  resembled  little  the  often  pro 
fuse,  but  always  ill-appointed  board  of  the  Southern 
petty  land-owner.  The  quality  of  the  viands  dif 
fered  as  much  from  that  of  those  to  which  I  had 
of  late  been  accustomed  as  the  manner  of  serving 
them  did.  The  bread  was  of  Indian  corn, — a  ma 
terial  which,  according  to  the  mode  of  preparation, 
may  furnish  delicacies  for  the  fastidious,  or  the  most 
repulsive  food  that  ever  hunger  satisfied  itself  upon. 
I  had  lately  had  abundant  experience  of  this  grain 
under  its  least  attractive  form.  On  the  present  oc- 


KECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  7 

casion  it  made  its  appearance  under  that  of  the 
lightest  and  most  delicate  of  biscuit,  with  which  the 
dish  was  constantly  replenished  by  the  solicitous 
Tabitha,  —  for  this,  I  found,  was  the  name  of  the 
stately  black  woman,  who,  with  a  full  sense  of  their 
importance,  filled  the  posts  of  cook  and  waiter. 

The  invalid,  from  her  couch,  superintended  the 
operations  near  the  fire.  Each  dish  was,  in  its 
turn,  submitted  to  her  inspection  before  being 
placed  on  the  table.  All  the  directions  were 
given  in  the  same  quiet  tone  which  I  had  re 
marked  on  my  first  entrance.  I  now  observed 
that  her  voice,  though  low,  was  clear  and  musical 
and  had  nothing  of  the  feebleness  of  ill-health. 
Yet  her  white,  thin  hands,  her  transparent  skin, 
and  the  expression  of  patience  stamped  upon  her 
worn  features,  told  of  protracted  suffering. 

My  host  did  the  honors  with  perfect  courtesy. 
We  did  not,  however,  make  much  progress  in  each 
other's  acquaintance.  His  manner  was  frank  and 
cordial,  but  he  spoke  little,  and,  contrary  to  the 
custom  of  the  region  in  which  he  lived,  neither 
asked  me  questions  about  my  affairs,  nor  volun 
teered  information  in  regard  to  his  own.  On  my 
part,  I,  who  like  well  enough  the  communicative 
ness  of  our  Southern  and  Western  brothers,  and 
who  am  of  opinion  that  what  concerns  one  human 
being  ought  not  to  be  indifferent  to  any  other,  felt 


8  RECORD   OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

myself  a  little  damped  by  a  reserve  to  which  I  had 
disaccustomed  myself  since  I  left  home.  In  fact, 
when  I  drew  my  chair  up  to  the  table,  I  had  in 
dulged  in  a  full  expectation  of  that  exchange  of 
confidences  which  usually  took  place  between  the 
guest  and  his  entertainer  under  similar  circum 
stances.  I  was  ready  to  tell  as  much  about  my 
self  as  my  companion  could  desire  to  hear,  and  was 
prepared  to  learn  from  him  in  return  ^all  I  wished 
to  know,  namely :  his  name ;  his  place  of  birth  ; 
what  brought  him  here ;  who  the  lady  on  the  couch 
was,  and  what  relation  she  bore  to  him.  The  sup 
per  passed,  however,  without  the  satisfaction  of  my 
curiosity,  or,  apparently,  the  excitement  of  his. 
Our  conversation  was  of  the  most  general  character. 
It  related  chiefly  to  the  productions  of  the  country, 
its  climate,  and  so  forth.  I  should,  perhaps,  in  my 
wearied  state,  have  found  it  tedious,  if  my  fancy, 
on  the  alert  for  indications  to  guide  it,  had  not 
kept  up  a  running  commentary  and  found  roman 
tic  suggestions  in  the  most  prosaic  statements. 

Fatigue,  however,  at  length  got  the  better  of  cu 
riosity.  The  game  of  reply  and  rejoinder  flagged, 
and  at  last  ceased  altogether.  My  host,  in  answer 
to  my  tired  look,  took  up  a  candle  and  offered  to 
conduct  me  to  my  sleeping-room.  We  mounted 
the  ladder  to  the  chamber  into  which  I  had  be 
fore  been  introduced,  and  from  which  the  articles 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  9 

of  dress  that  had  hung  upon  the  walls  had  disap 
peared.  I  saw  very  well  that  my  host  was  de 
priving  himself  of  his  room  for  my  accommoda 
tion,  but  a  feeling  of  shyness  which  had  crept 
over  me  prevented  me  from  making  known  to 
him  my  recognition  of  this  act  of  hospitality. 
He  cast  a  look  of  inspection  about  the  room, 
and  then,  as  if  satisfied  that  all  was  in  order, 
wished  me  a  good  night,  extending,  after  a  mo 
ment's  hesitation,  his  hand,  and  grasping  mine 
cordially  as  he  saw  the  motion  promptly  and 
warmly  met  on  my  part.  A  bright  smile  lighted 
up  his  face  at  the  same  time,  and  he  left  with 
me  the  pleasant  consciousness  that  I  was  not  re 
garded  as  an  intrusive  or  an  unwelcome  guest. 

Notwithstanding  my  hospitable  entertainment,  I 
did  not  entirely  escape  the  consequences  of  the  ex 
posure  I  had  suffered.  The  fresh,  cool  bed  invited 
to  the  sleep  my  fatigue  rendered  necessary.  But  I 
courted  it  in  vain.  I  lay  tranquil,  but  sleepless,  my 
ear  taking  in  the  sounds  that  came  to  it  from  the 
lower  room.  In  this  way  I  assisted  at  the  clearing 
of  the  supper-table,  and  the  consequent  household 
rites,  indicated  by  an  alternate  clatter  and  splash. 
As  these  began,  I  heard  the  outer  door  open  and 
close,  and  followed  the  footsteps  of  my  friend,  on  his 
way,  I  made  no  doubt,  to  the  cattle-shed.  I  then 
recollected,  with  a  qualm  of  conscience,  that,  for 


10  RECORD  OF  AX  OBSCURE   MAN. 

the  first  time  in  my  rambles,  my  absorption  in 
myself,  or  my  confidence  in  the  hospitality  of  the 
house  that  had  received  me,  or  both  together,  had 
made  me  forget  to  look  after  the  supper  and  bed 
ding  of  my  horse.  I  was  half-inclined  to  rise ;  but 
my  weariness,  and  the  assurance  I  felt  that  my  host 
had  gone  out  to  atone  for  my  neglect,  persuaded 
me  to  content  myself  where  I  was.  The  sounds 
that  soon  came  to  me  from  without,  and  which 
I  easily  interpreted,  following  in  imagination  the 
processes  they  indicated,  confirmed  my  impres 
sion,  —  as  the  ejaculations,  now  encouraging,  now 
admonitory,  in  which  men  communicate  with  the 
dependent  animals,  met  my  ear,  accompanied  by 
a  patter  of  horses'  feet,  and  now  and  then  a  snort 
or  grateful  whinny. 

Within  the  house,  in  the  mean  time,  the  even 
ing  duties  went  on.  Their  fulfilment  was  cheered 
and  the  various  sounds  composed  by  a  low  chant, 
which  I  at  once  referred  to  Tabitha.  In  its  sup 
pressed  tones,  which  now  and  then  broke  through 
their  restraint  to  be  instantly  subdued  again,  I  per 
ceived  the  deference  paid  to  the  unseen  presence 
of  a  stranger.  The  last  clash  of  crockery  and  the 
last  notes  of  the  melody  died  away  together,  and 
a  grand  opening  and  shutting  of  drawers  an 
nounced  the  finale  of  the  evening's  performances, 
when  the  outer  door  again  opened,  to  admit  the 


RECORD  OF  AN   OBSCURE  MAN.  H 

master  of  the  house.  After  his  return,  a  moving 
of  chairs  and  tables,  then  the  opening  and  closing 
of  a  door  or  two,  and  then  profound  quiet. 

This  seemed  hardly  to  be  broken,  when,  shortly 
after,  the  low,  continuous  murmur  of  a  voice  made 
itself  heard.  I  inferred,  from  the  uniformity  of  the 
tone,  that  it  was  the  voice  of  some  one  reading 
aloud.  My  first  impression  was  that  the  master  of 
the  house  was  beguiling  the  weary  hours  for  the 
sufferer  on  the  couch ;  but  I  soon  perceived  that 
the  voice  was  not  that  of  a  man,  and,  listening 
more  attentively,  I  thought  I  could  recognize  the 
low,  sweet  accents  of  the  invalid  herself.  I  tried 
to  soothe  myself  by  the  lulling  sound  and  to  es 
cape  into  sleep  by  its  aid,  but  in  vain.  It  ceased 
at  last.  The  night  was  already  far  advanced. 
The  storm  was  over.  The  stars  twinkled  on  me 
through  the  cracks  in  the  roof  above  my  head. 
I  watched  their  glimmer  until  it  faded  out  before 
the  light  of  day. 

I  now  gave  up  the  thought  of  sleep,  and,  weary 
of  my  useless  imprisonment,  resolved  to  rise.  It 
was  then  I  first  became  aware  that  my  strength 
had  been  fearfully  reduced  during  this  watchful 
night.  On  my  first  essay,  I  fell  back  helpless. 
It  was  only  after  repeated  efforts  that  I  succeeded. 

I  would  not  go  down  until  summoned ;  for  the 
staircase  led  immediately  into  the  room  where  we 


12  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

had  supped,  and  I  felt  that  the  presence  of  a  stran 
ger  at  that  early  hour  must  be  inconvenient  in 
an  apartment  which  served  so  many  purposes.  I 
looked  round  for  something  to  divert  myself  with 
until  the  hour  of  breakfast.  I  wandered  to  the 
window.  The  view  from  it  was  tame  and  did  not 
hold  me  long.  Some  young  trees  gave  promise  for 
the  future,  but  the  land  had  been  pitilessly  cleared. 
I  then  turned  my  observation  upon  the  room.  It 
was  still  ruder  in  finish  and  in  furniture  than  that 
below.  The  chairs  and  bedstead  were  evidently  of 
domestic  manufacture.  A  case  of  shelves,  pro 
tected  by  a  curtain  of  wall-paper  made  to  roll  up 
by  a  simple  contrivance,  was  plainly  of  the  same 
workmanship.  I  discovered  that  this  supplied  the 
place  of  a  wardrobe.  As  my  eye  thus  took  ac 
count  of  the  objects  in  the  room,  it  fell  upon 
one  which  gave  evidence  of  a  certain  luxury  no 
where  else  visible.  In  the  end  farthest  from  that 
at  which  I  was  seated,  hung  from  a  black  and  gilt 
cornice  a  silk  curtain  with  draperies  profuse  in 
fringe  and  tassels.  It  seemed  to  cover  a  wide 
door  or  alcove,  or  perhaps  only  the  front  of  a 
large  piece  of  furniture.  I  looked  at  it  for  some 
time  with  a  languid  curiosity,  which,  gradually  be 
coming  more  lively,  at  last  drew  me  to  examine 
it.  I  found  what  seemed  at  first  a  wide  wardrobe 
or  book-case,  of  which  the  sides  were  ornamented 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  13 

with  Japan  work,  —  a  black  ground  with  raised 
figures  of  birds  and  flowers  in  gold  and  brilliant 
colors.  I  drew  aside  one  half  of  the  curtain,  which 
opened  in  the  middle,  and  found  that  it  concealed 
a  large  recess,  of  which  the  ornamented  wood 
work  formed  the  doorway.  This  recess,  unlike 
the  chamber,  which  was  open  to  the  roof,  had  a 
plastered  ceiling.  With  the  exception  of  a  slit  cut 
to  receive  the  narrow  window  that  lighted  it,  the 
little  cabinet  was  entirely  lined  with  books.  They 
were  nearly  all  covered  with  stout  paper,  and,  on 
taking  some  of  them  down,  I  found  the  additional 
precaution  of  a  paper  case  which  protected  the 
edges  of  the  leaves.  The  other  furniture  of  the 
recess  consisted  of  an  old-fashioned  high-backed 
arm-chair,  and  a  little  table  with  writing-materials, 
which  stood  before  it.  I  seated  myself  in  the  chair 
and  amused  myself  with  reading  the  titles  of  the 
books.  They  were  of  the  most  varied  description, 
and  were  arranged  according  to  their  subject,  with 
out  reference  to  their  size  or  the  language  in  which 
they  were  written.  In  this  little  repository  almost 
all  times  and  nations  had  their  representatives.  I 
found  a  good  collection  of  classic  authors,  the 
masters  of  modern  literature  in  all  the  tongues 
with  which  I  was  acquainted,  many  books  offer 
ing  combinations  of  letters  strange  to  my  eye, 
and  others  in  characters  wholly  unknown  to  me. 


14  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

Then  there  were  volumes  which,  though  no  great 
connoisseur  in  these  matters,  I  could  easily  per 
ceive,  from  the  date  of  the  printing  and  the  beauty 
of  the  type,  to  be  rare  editions.  There  seemed  to 
be  no  luxury  of  binding,  except  in  the  case  of  some 
of  these  old  books,  which  had  perhaps  once  held 
their  place  in  some  princely  library. 

In  most  of  the  books  I  opened  was  written  the 
name,  —  Edward  Colvil ;  in  a  few,  that  of  Har 
riet  Colvil.  In  some  of  them  both  these  names 
were  found.  Were  they  those  of  my  host  and 
hostess  ? 

The  interest  I  found  in  searching  among  these 
hidden  treasures  suspended  for  a  time  the  sense  of 
feebleness  which  had  oppressed  me  when  I  rose, 
but  it  soon  returned  and  weighed  upon  me  doub 
ly.  I  tried  to  read,  but  gave  it  up  and  tottered 
to  the  bed,  where  my  host,  when  he  came  to  call 
me  to  breakfast,  found  me  stretched,  indifferent  to 
everything. 

Five  days  I  was  held  there,  during  which  time 
my  new  friend  treated  me  in  conformity  with  the 
prescriptions  given  by  the  mistress  of  the  house, 
who,  from  her  couch,  now  superintended  the  prog 
ress  of  my  cure,  as  she  had  done  the  preparations 
for  my  supper  on  the  evening  of  my  arrival. 

My  host,  in  administering  her  remedies,  spoke 
of  her  as  his  mother.  Each  time  that  he  pro- 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  15 

nounced  this  name,  his  voice  lowered  with  an  in 
voluntary  accent  of  tenderness  and  respect  that 
impressed  me  and  increased  my  desire  to  know 
something  more  of  her  history  and  his. 

On  the  sixth  day  I  was  well  enough  to  leave  my 
room.  Early  in  the  afternoon  I  was  aided  down 
the  difficult  stairway  by  my  good  host,  and  once 
more  installed  in  the  chair  of  honor,  mine  by  the 
double  title  of  guest  and  invalid.  The  mistress 
of  the  house  addressed  to  me  some  words  of  simple 
kindness  which  set  me  at  my  ease,  and  then  took 
up  the  needlework  with  which  she  had  been  en 
gaged  when  I  entered.  She  was,  as  before,  re 
clining  upon  her  couch,  and  I  observed  that  she 
drew  out  her  needle  slowly  and  with  an  appear 
ance  of  exertion.  She  addressed  her  son  as  Ed 
ward.  The  Edward  Colvil  of  the  books,  of  course. 
I  was  glad  to  have  a  name  to  call  him  by  in  my 
thoughts,  but  I  could  not  venture  to  address  him 
by  it  without  some  more  decisive  authority.  Dur 
ing  the  hours  he  had  passed  in  my  sick-room,  Ed 
ward  had  read  to  me,  had  talked  with  me  over 
a  wide  range  of  subjects,  historical,  political,  lit 
erary  ;  but  had  let  fall  nothing  that  had  reference 
to  his  past  life  or  present  occupations  and  circum 
stances.  Had  this  silence  been  reserve  or  delicacy  ? 
I  risked  an  essay. 

"  Are  you  not  from  New  England  ?  " 


16  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

"  Yes,  from  Massachusetts." 

And  here  he  stopped.  I  waited  a  little,  but  noth 
ing  more  came.  Edward  seemed  rather  thrown 
into  thought  by  my  question,  than  stimulated  to 
talk.  I  took  up  the  word  again  myself. 

"  I  was  born  in  New  England." 

"  I  saw  the  New-Englander  in  you  at  once," 
said  Edward's  mother,  looking  towards  me,  as  I 
thought,  very  kindly. 

The  friendly  smile  with  which  Edward  regarded 
me  was  his  only  answer.  They  were  no  more  so 
licitous,  it  seemed,  to  know  more  about  me  than 
to  tell  me  more  about  themselves.  Once  launched, 
however,  I  went  forward.  I  had  soon  told  them 
where  I  was  bgrn,  where  I  lived,  who  my  parents 
were,  and  what  I  was  travelling  about  for,  —  all 
without  their  helping  me  very  much  with  their 
questions.  They  showed,  however,  as  much  in 
terest  as  I  could  desire.  I  gradually  opened  my 
self  more  and  more,  and,  as  the  current  of  sym 
pathy  became  established  between  us,  they  led  me 
on  by  their  pleased  attention  and  discriminating 
comments  till  I  had  related  more  of  myself  and 
my  family-affairs  than  I  should  beforehand  have 
thought  judicious  to  confide  to  strangers.  I  even 
wandered  back  into  traditional  family-anecdotes, 
and  had  just  arrived  at  the  knight  of  Malta 
whom  we  count  among  the  collateral  honors  of 


KECOKD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.        17 

our  family-tree,  when  I  was  checked  by  a  sudden 
misgiving  that  I  was  making  myself  ridiculous. 
I  saw,  however,  no  signs  of  such  an  impression  on 
the  part  of  my  listeners.  On  the  contrary,  the 
kindness  they  had  hitherto  shown  me  seemed 
warmed  into  an  almost  affectionate  familiarity 
after  these  confidences. 

By  the  time  the  sun  went  down  and  the  even 
ing  fire  was  kindled  I  felt  as  one  of  the  family, 
and  even  ventured  to  aid  in  some  little  offices 
which  in  this  small  household  claimed  the  per 
sonal  attention  of  the  master.  In  this  way  I 
cleared  from  the  table,  about  to  be  arranged  for 
supper,  some  objects  that  incumbered  it,  —  among 
them  a  book  or  two,  which,  after  having  placed 
the  other  things  in  safety  on  the  shelves  with 
which  the  walls  were  furnished,  I  permitted  my 
self  to  retain. 

"You  allow  me?"  I  said  to  Edward,  as  I 
opened  one  of  them. 

"  Certainly.  They  are  the  books  in  which  my 
mother  was  reading  to  me  last  evening." 

44  Your  mother  reads  German,  then  ?  "  I  asked, 
in  some  surprise. 

"  Yes,  she  learned  it  in  order  to  read  to  me." 

Edward  went  on  to  tell  me  that  he  had  some 
years  before  been  attacked  by  a  complaint  of  the 
eyes  which  threatened  to  hinder  the  prosecution 


18  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

of  his  studies.  He  was  then  at  an  age  when  an 
interruption  is  fatal.  His  mother  had  done  all 
that  was  possible,  and  almost  the  impossible,  to 
mitigate  to  him  the  effects  of  his  misfortune. 
She  read  to  him,  during  the  hours  he  had  hither 
to  been  able  to  devote  to  study,  in  English  and 
in  other  languages.  French  and  Italian  she  al 
ready  possessed.  Of  German  she  learned  from 
him  the  principles  of  the  pronunciation,  and  at 
tempted  at  first  to  read  to  him  without  herself 
understanding  what  she  was  imparting ;  but  find 
ing  that  the  false  expression  and  emphasis  into 
which  she  unavoidably  fell  detracted  from  the 
pleasure  of  listening,  and  even  sometimes  ren 
dered  it  a  fatigue,  she  set  resolutely  about  the 
study  of  the  language,  and  was  now  able  to  enjoy 
with  her  son  the  treasures  it  holds.  I  learned 
further  that  the  faithful  mother  had  for  many 
years  been  held,  by  one  of  those  obscure  diseases 
which  pass  under  the  name  of  spine-complaints, 
almost  helpless  to  her  couch,  and  it  was  there  she 
had  pursued  these  studies  in  the  moments  she 
could  abstract  from  her  necessary  needlework  and 
the  superintendence  of  the  housekeeping,  from 
which  duties  her  infirm  condition  did  not  ex 
empt  her.  I  gathered  that  she  had,  at  some  pre 
vious  period  of  her  life,  either  from  poverty  or  some 
other  cause,  been  compelled  for  a  length  of  time  to 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  19 

make  exertions  greatly  beyond  her  strength,  and 
that  to  these  the  malady  which  had  crippled  her 
was  attributable. 

Interested  as  I  was  in  my  new  friends,  and  de 
sirous  of  further  confidences,  I  would  willingly 
have  prolonged  my  evening  in  their  company. 
But  this  was  not  permitted  me.  The  signs  of 
lassitude,  which  I  had  endeavored  to  suppress, 
were  quickly  detected  by  my  hostess.  Perhaps 
her  own  experience  had  quickened  her  perceptions. 
She  early  reminded  her  son  that  I  was  an  invalid, 
and,  when  I  sincerely  'expressed  my  wish  to  remain 
longer  with  them,  overruled  it  with  decision.  Ed 
ward  aided  me  to  my  room  and  left  me,  promising 
to  return  later  in  the  evening  to  see  if  I  had  need 
of  anything.  He  came  accordingly.  I  was  not 
asleep,  and  begged  him  to  sit  down  by  me.  He 
complied ;  and  then,  without  preamble,  I  asked 
him  to  tell  me  something  more  of  his  past  history. 
There  was  nothing  in  it  very  romantic,  after  all. 

He  was  the  son  of  a  clergyman  of  New  England, 
whom  ill-health  had  compelled  to  leave  his  parish 
and  his  native  State.  The  mildness  of  the  climate 
and  some  accidental  circumstances  had  decided  him 
to  settle  in  the  place  where  his  wife  and  son  still 
lived.  He  had  invested  the  greater  part  of  his 
little  property  in  the  land  and  the  buildings  erected 
upon  it.  He  did  not  long  enjoy  his  estate.  The 


20  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

benefit  he  derived  from  change  of  climate  was  more 
than  counterbalanced  by  the  hardships  and  fatigues 
of  his  new  life.  Accustomed  to  purely  intellectual 
pursuits,  the  necessity  of  turning  his  attention  to 
material  wants  and  occupying  himself  with  the 
grosser  cares  of  life  harassed  and  disgusted  him. 
He  was  not  able  to  conceal  the  disappointment  he 
suffered  in  this  strange  land,  which  he  had  pictured 
to  himself  beforehand  as  an  earthly  paradise,  and 
for  whose  soft  air  he  had  longed  in  his  wintry  birth 
place  as  for  the  fountain  of  youth  and  health.  His 
wife  and  children  did  all  in  their  power  to  support 
the  failing  man,  and  to  avert  from  him  fatigue  and 
anxiety.  But  the  restlessness  of  disease  and  of  dis 
satisfaction  drove  him  to  seek  the  exertions  that 
wasted  him.  He  sank  after  a  few  painful  years. 
The  management  of  the  little  farm,  which  had 
been,  at  least  ostensibly,  conducted  by  the  father, 
devolved  upon  Edward,  then  not  twenty  years  of 
age.  He  was  at  that  time  aided  by  two  younger 
brothers. 

The  mother,  now  the  sole  guardian  of  the  little 
exiled  family,  exerted  herself  not  only  to  maintain 
order  and  comfort  for  her  children,  but  to  obviate, 
as  far  as  possible,  the  disadvantages  of  a  removal 
from  cultivated  society  and  public  means  of  edu 
cation.  She  strove  to  keep  alive  in  her  sons  the 
tastes  awakened  in  former  years,  and  to  stimulate 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  21 

in  them  the  desire  of  knowledge.  She  would  not 
suffer  them  to  give  their  whole  time  to  manual 
labor,  but  engaged  them  to  set  apart  a  certain 
portion  of  the  day  for  reading  and  study  in  com 
mon.  This  custom,  at  first,  at  least  on  the  part  of 
the  younger  sons,  a  sacrifice  to  filial  piety,  acquired 
the  force  of  a  religious  observance  ;  as  did  also  the 
habits  of  neatness  and  order,  which  respect  for  this 
tender  mother  prevailed  on  them  'to  maintain,  in 
spite  of  the  temptations  to  neglect  them  which  their 
isolated  and  difficult  life  offered,  —  temptations  un 
der  the  force  of  which  so  many  of  the  emigrants 
from  civilized  into  newly  settled  countries  relapse 
into  barbarism. 

His  two  brothers  Edward  described  to  me  as 
noble  boys,  contrasts  to  each  other  in  appearance 
and  character,  but  both  lovely  and  both  highly 
gifted  in  their  different  ways.  They  fell  victims 
to  the  cholera,  which  for  two  successive  seasons 
ravaged  the  country.  It  was  after  the  death  of 
the  second,  that  the  forces  of  the  mother,  which 
she  had  long  maintained  only  by  the  energy  of 
her  spirit,  failed  her  at  once.  About  a  year  be 
fore  this  misfortune,  a  free  black  woman,  whose 
entire  family  had  been  carried  off  by  the  cholera, 
had  come  to  the  house  of  the  Colvils  to  ask  a 
home.  She  had  been  kindly  received,  and  had 
been  instructed  in  the  careful  performance  of 


22  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

household  duties,  in  preparation  for  finding  her  a 
more  lucrative  service.  This  woman,  who  proved 
intelligent  and  faithful,  seeing  that  her  protectress 
was  likely  to  have  need  of  her,  declared  her  firm 
resolution  never  to  leave  her.  She  remained  ac 
cordingly,  and  had  proved  herself  a  devoted  nurse 
to  her  mistress,  who,  through  her,  was  enabled  to 
keep  up  the  order  and  neatness  which  had  always 
marked  her  housekeeping. 

"  Tabitha  is  not  a  slave,  then  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no !  " 

Edward  seemed  surprised  at  the  question. 

"And  do  you  carry  on  your  farm,  likewise, 
without  slave-labor  ?  " 

"  Certainly.  I  have  been  so  fortunate  as  to 
engage  the  services  of  a  German  and  his  sons. 
The  father  does  not  understand  English,  so  that  I 
have  an  opportunity  of  speaking  German.  He  is 
not  without  education,  and  has  a  pretty  good  accent. 
I  give  the  sons  lessons  in  English,  and  even  by  this 
I  learn  something,  so  that  I  have  a  double  advan 
tage  in  employing  them.  In  the  busier  seasons  I 
engage  some  occasional  labor,  which  is  always  to  be 
obtained  from  the  emigrants  who  are  constantly 
passing  through  our  State.  Our  worthy  German 
has  put  up  a  house,  and  has  fully  established  him 
self  here  with  his  family." 

I  remembered  to  have  heard,  during  my  confine- 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  23 

ment  to  my  bed,  the  tones  of  a  male  voice  of  a  dif 
ferent  quality  from  Edward's,  and  to  have  seen  a 
broad  back  disappearing  through  the  door  when  I 
went  down  in  the  morning. 

Reserve  being  now  at  an  end,  I  asked  Edward 
some  questions  in  regard  to  his  family.  I  found  that 
he  was  of  the  stock  of  the  New  England  Pilgrims, 
—  of  that  most  respectable  of  emigrations,  composed 
of  men  that  had  known  neither  the  deterioration 
which  want  causes,  nor  that  consequent  on  inter 
course  with  a  court.  I  have  no  portion  in  the 
Pilgrim  Fathers,  but  I  have  not  the  less  a  filial 
regard  for  them,  and  felt  my  respect  for  Edward 
Colvil  increased  when  I  knew  he  was  of  their 
blood.  I  expressed  this  to  him,  and  felicitated  him 
on  his  connection  with  those  erect  and  independent 
men,  the  truest  representatives  of  the  English  na 
tion,  uniting  the  sturdiness  of  the  peasant  with  the 
cultivation  of  the  gentleman.  He  accepted  my 
congratulations  frankly,  but  was  not  quite  so  ready 
to  expatiate  on  the  subject  of  his  lineage  as  I  had 
shown  myself  in  regard  to  mine. 

By  a  little  persistence,  however,  I  discovered 
that  he  was  a  true  New-Englander  in  his  respect 
for  genealogy.  I  was  well  pleased  to  lead  him  into 
disclosures  in  this  direction,  and  all  the  more  be 
cause  I  had  a  misgiving  that  I  had  a  little  paraded 
the  honors  of  my  own  family-tree.  He  made  no 


24  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

pretension  to  anything  very  illustrious.  He  was 
derived  on  both  sides  from  families  whose  records 
had  been  carefully  kept  for  centuries.  They  were, 
like  those  of  my  own  family,  graced  by  some  mod 
erate  celebrities,  but  could  boast  no  names  super- 
eminent  either  in  genius  or  in  crime, — in  short, 
gave  occasion  for  no  livelier  feeling  than  the 
quiet  satisfaction  found  in  an  honorable  and  un 
blemished  descent.  As  is  the  case  with  most  New- 
Englanders,  many  different  races  had  a  share  in 
him.  Welsh,  Saxon,  Norman,  Scotch,  and  Nor 
wegian  blood  met  in  his  veins.  We  are  apt,  of  the 
many  rivulets  that  furnish  the  tide  of  our  life,  to 
choose  out  some  one  source  as  the  subject  of  more 
special  self-gratulation.  I  found  he  was  no  excep 
tion  here,  but  that,  even  as  I  find  my  highest 
pride  in  my  Gaelic  lineage,  so  he  held  most  dear  his 
Scandinavian  blood.  Perhaps  it  was  because  he 
had  it  from  his  mother.  Yet  it  was  not  conspicu 
ous  in  him.  She  showed  her  Northern  descent  in 
her  white,  transparent  skin  and  calm  blue  eyes. 
His  rapidly  varying  complexion  and  the  changeful 
expression  of  his  dark  eyes  spoke  of  the  inheri 
tance  of  a  temperament  fostered  by  warmer  suns. 
It  came,  perhaps,  from  the  sensitive,  melancholic 
father. 

Before  we  parted  for  the  night  the  intimacy  be 
tween  us  was  fully  established.     I  did  not  hesitate 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  25 

to  tell  him  of  the  inroad  I  had  made  on  the  first 
morning  into  his  little  sanctum,  and  expressed  my 
curiosity  in  regard  to  the  exceptional  luxury  that 
surrounded  it.  I  found  that  it  had  been  arranged 
during  the  lifetime  of  the  father,  by  the  care  of  his 
affectionate  wife  and  children,  who  had  endeavored 
to  soothe  his  sick  spirit  by  every  appliance  within 
their  reach.  The  curtains,  Edward  told  me,  were 
an  heirloom,  and  had  once  hung  in  the  parlor  of 
his  mother's  grandmother.  He  remembered  that 
in  his  childhood  they  were  kept  in  an  oaken  chest 
in  which  they  had  been  preserved  since  the  time 
of  the  Revolution,  when  his  great-grandfather,  who 
was  a  Tory,  was  obliged  to  leave  the  country. 
They  had  always  been  looked  on  with  respect  by 
the  family ;  and  when,  at  the  time  of  their  migra 
tion,  the  necessary  division  was  made  between  the 
articles  of  furniture  to  be  sacrificed  and  those  that 
were  to  be  forwarded  to  the  new  home,  these,  with 
the  high-backed  chair,  —  a  Puritan  relic,  —  and  the 
old-fashioned  couch  in  the  lower  room,  were  re 
served  by  general  consent.  The  Japan  painting 
of  the  frame  and  cornice  was  his  mother's  work. 
She  had  not  herself  beforehand  a  very  correct  idea 
of  the  life  she  was  to  lead,  or  of  its  exactions,  and 
had  brought  with  her  the  material  for  various  kinds 
of  fancy-work  which  had  been  the  recreation  of 
her  youth,  -and  for  which  she  expected  to  have 


26  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

abundant  time  in  her  quiet  country-home.  The 
last  and  only  use  she  made  of  these  little  accom 
plishments  was  in  the  garnishing  of  her  husband's 
"study,"  as  the  little  nook  was  called  in  which 
the  remnant  of  his  library  was  stored  up.  For, 
though  they  had  brought  with  them  little  luxury 
of  furniture,  they  had  preserved  their  most  valu 
able  books  and  those  that  would  be  most  useful  in 
the  education  of  their  children.  These  formed  the 
nucleus  of  the  present  collection. 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  27 


II. 

WHEN  Edward  came  to  call  me  the  next  morn 
ing,  he  invited  me,  before  going  down,  to  take  a 
look  at  his  little  study.  I  saw  that  philology  was 
his  favorite  pursuit.  He  first  directed  my  atten 
tion  to  the  shelves  on  which  the  great  lights  of 
this  science  reposed.  But  when  he  perceived 
that  their  names  did  not  precisely  awaken  enthu 
siasm  in  me,  he  pointed  out  his  collection  of  dra 
matic  writers.  "  It  is  incomplete,"  he  said,  "  but 
it  contains  nearly  all  that  I  could  want  to  read 
more  than  once,  and  I  cannot  afford  to  own  books 
that  will  bear  only  a  single  reading."  In  historical 
works  his  little  treasury  seemed  rich.  I  found  the 
books  were  put  up  in  double,  sometimes  in  triple 
rows  ;  so  that  the  collection  was,  in  fact,  much 
larger  than  it  at  first  appeared. 

Most  of  the  books  in  foreign  living  languages 
had  been  procured  by  Edward  on  his  occasional 
visits  to  the  nearest  large  city.  He  was  in  the 
habit  of  leaving  his  orders  with  the  principal 
bookseller  there,  and  was  often  obliged  to  wait 


28  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

many  months,  sometimes  even  a  year,  before  the 
long-desired  book  came  into  his  possession.  He  did 
not  tell  me  at  that  time  by  what  exertions  and  what 
self-denial  the  acquisition  of  these  books  had  been 
attained  ;  but  I  almost  divined  it  when  he  showed 
me  some  catalogues  of  German  booksellers  in 
which  he  had  marked  the  titles  of  certain  books 
with  three  crosses,  others  with  two,  others  again 
with  one,  according  to  the  degree  of  his  desire  for 
them.  When  circumstances  permitted  the  pur 
chase  of  a  book,  one  of  the  triply  marked  was 
selected,  and  so  on  in  order  of  interest.  When  I 
saw  how  many  were  marked  with  the  threefold 
cross  of  honor  without  having  yet  received  the 
fourth,  which  indicated  their  final  promotion  to  the 
chosen  society  on  his  shelves,  I  could  not  help  re 
garding  Edward  with  a  momentary  compassion. 
But  then  again,  remarking  the  bright  expectant 
smile  with  which  he  enjoyed  in  advance  his  future 
conquests,  as  he  glanced  from  page  to  page  of  his 
catalogue,  I  felt  that  he  could  not  have  had  more 
pleasure  from  his  authors,  and  probably  would  not 
have  read  them  half  so  thoroughly,  if  he  could 
have  had  a  large  library  for  the  wishing.  A  row 
of  books  bound  uniformly,  in  a  very  simple  way, 
and  not,  like  the  others,  protected  by  paper,  caught 
my  eye.  They  were  manuscript  copies,  made  by 
himself,  of  works  difficult  to  be  obtained,  that 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  29 

had  been  lent  to  him,  or  that  he  had  found  in  the 
public  libraries,  on  his  rare  visits  to  the  Eastern 
cities.  The  somewhat  rude  binding  was  his  own 
handiwork. 

I  asked  him  whether  he  possessed  the  key  to  the 
strange  tongues  in  which  some  of  his  books  were 
written,  and  how  he  had  obtained  it.  He  told  me 
he  had  begun  the  study  of  these  languages  by 
himself,  aided  by  good  grammars  in  German  ;  that 
in  most  of  them  he  had  received  assistance  from 
some  of  those  wandering  teachers  whom  Europe's 
misfortunes  send  us.  Emigrants  of  various  na 
tions,  of  all  conditions,  and  all  degrees  of  educa 
tion,  passed  through  this  region  on  their  way  to  a 
still  more  attractive  and  more  Southern  countiy. 
They  were  often  glad  to  accept  the  offered  hospi 
tality  of  a  few  days'  or  weeks'  repose,  and  give  in 
return  what  they  had,  in  default  of  silver  and  gold. 

When  we  went  down  to  the  lower  room,  we 
found  everything  in  order  and  the  breakfast  await 
ing  us.  The  mother  reclined  as  usual  on  her 
couch,  which,  with  its  heavy  black  wood  and  the 
pale  green  damask  of  its  many  cushions,  had  an 
Old-World  air  very  pleasant  in  a  region  where  the 
works  of  man  were  so  recent.  It  seemed  that  its 
occupant  must  feel  less  banished,  supported  by  this 
relic  of  an  older  home.  She  greeted  me  kindly,  as 
I  entered  with  her  son,  and  joined  occasionally  in 


30  RECORD  OF  AX  OBSCURE  MAX. 

our  conversation  during  breakfast.  Her  delicate, 
tremulous  hands  were  already  employed  upon  her 
ceaseless  needlework. 

The  day  was  rainy.  It  was  decided  that  I  was 
not  to  venture  out ;  but  Edward,  seeing  that  I 
was  well  enough  to  amuse  myself  by  reading,  did 
not  offer  to  remain  with  me.  He  referred  me  to 
the  books  on  the  small  table  near  his  mother,  or 
to  those  in  the  study  above,  for  my  morning's 
entertainment,  and  then,  without  further  apology 
than  that  some  matters  without  required  his  at 
tention,  left  me. 

I  thought  it  expedient  to  return  to  my  room ;  for 
I  foreboded  that  the  one  in  which  we  had  break 
fasted  must  be  for  some  time  the  scene  of  house 
hold  duties  which  did  not  invite  my  cooperation. 
I  requested,  however,  permission  of  my  hostess  to 
return  at  a  later  hour  and  bring  writh  me  a  vol 
ume  of  poems  from  which  I  proposed  to  read  to 
her  some  of  my  favorite  pieces. 

I  found  she  was  acquainted  with  the  name  of  the 
author,  but  not  yet  with  his  works,  with  the  ex 
ception  of  a  few  poems  that  had  found  their  way 
into  the  newspapers.  I  was  pleased  to  see  her  mild 
blue  eyes  brighten  and  deepen  at  the  prospect  of 
the  entertainment  I  offered  her.  She  promised  to 
let  me  know  as  soon  as  all  should  be  in  order  for 
my  reception. 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.        31 

The  summons  came,  after  a  not  very  long  inter 
val,  during  which  I  had  been  made  aware  of  an 
extraordinary  alacrity  on  the  part  of  Tabitha,  who, 
to  judge  by  the  vivacity  of  her  movements,  sym 
pathized  keenly  in  the  anticipations  of  her  mis 
tress. 

There  was  a  slight  flush  on  the  usually  white 
cheek  of  the  invalid,  and  an  almost  tremulous  ex 
pectation  visible  on  her  features,  as  I  opened  the 
volume.  A  new  book  makes  an  epoch  in  the  lives 
of  the  isolated  dwellers  in  newly  settled  countries. 
My  listener  prepared  herself  for  attention  by  re 
suming  the  work  she  had  dropped  for  a  moment 
on  my  entrance.  I  read  her  one  of  the  shorter 
poems  in  the  volume,  then,  after  a  little  pause,  a 
second,  and  after  another  interval,  a  third.  She 
made  no  remark,  and  gave  no  sign  of  applause, 
other  than  that  implied  by  the  occasional  dropping 
of  her  work  and  the  fixing  of  her  eyes  upon  me 
with  a  look  of  rapt  attention.  I  avoided  that 
fatal  question,  "How  do  you  like  it?"  the  sc 
frequent  extinguisher  of  enthusiasm,  and  waited  iu 
silence  a  signal  to  go  on. 

Tabitha,  in  the  mean  while,  seated  near  the  head 
of  her  mistress's  couch,  and  supposed  to  be  occu 
pied  with  some  piece  of  work,  which  I  fear  did  not 
prosper  much,  kept  time,  with  a  backward  and  for 
ward  movement  of  the  head,  to  the  cadence  of  the 


32  RECOKD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

verse.  Even  when  the  reading  had  ceased,  she 
continued  this  sympathetic  motion,  as  if  the  mel 
ody  still  lingered  in  her  ear. 

"  You  have  given  me  a  great  pleasure,"  said  the 
invalid  at  last,  and  then  relapsed  into  meditation, 
which  I  did  not  interrupt.  When  she  turned 
toward  me  with  an  expression  that  implied  she 
was  ready  to  hear  more,  I  read  again ;  and 
again  paused. 

"  You  will  permit  my  son  to  copy  some  of 
these  poems  ?  "  she  said,  on  returning  to  herself, 
after  another  interval  of  abstraction. 

"  No,  —  I  will  leave  the  volume  with  you,  when 
I  go." 

"  Oh  ! "  in  an  accent  of  deep  satisfaction.  This 
was  her  acceptance  of  my  offer,  without  other 
thanks. 

I  had  never  been  so  fully  sensible  of  the  power 
of  genius  as  when  I  saw  its  magic  exerted  in  that 
rude,  lonely  dwelling,  freeing  the  helpless  sufferer 
from  her  pains  and  cares.  What  a  benefaction 
of  Heaven  is  this  gift !  No  wonder  its  possessors 
think  they  have  enough  and  are  negligent  of  this 
world's  goods.  What  could  wealth  add  to  the 
privileges  of  genius?  To  the  ambitious  it  gives 
power  the  most  real,  —  that  over  the  soul ;  to  the 
lover  of  praise,  the  purest  glory;  to  the  benev 
olent,  the  means  of  benefiting  thousands.  I  ex- 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  33 

pressed   something   of  this    to   Mrs.   Colvil.      She 
assented  warmly. 

"  Yes,  —  and  in  the  pursuit  of  wealth,  or  of  the 
high  station  which  alone  can  give  the  extended  in 
fluence  that  genius  commands,  what  temptations 
to  be  encountered !  how  many  mean  cares !  how 
many  petty  contests  !  The  man  who  has  begun 
his  career  with  the  purest  aims,  by  the  time  he 
has  obtained  the  means  to  carry  them  out,  has, 
perhaps,  already  lost  sight  of  them.  The  man  of 
letters,  while  preparing  for  his  career,  and  while 
pursuing  it,  may  possess  his  soul  in  peace.  And 
then  what  happiness  there  must  be  in  the  con 
sciousness  of  a  sacred  gift  treasured  up  until  the 
fitting  moment,  and  then  given  forth,  blessing  and 
enriching  !  Yes,  —  I  believe  the  poet  who  devotes 
all  his  powers  to  the  service  of  God  must  be  the 
happiest  of  men." 

As  she  said  this,  in  her  low,  feeling  voice,  a 
soft  smile  played  on  her  face,  called  forth  by  some 
thought  inly  cherished.  She  spoke  rather  as  if 
considering  the  subject  within  herself  than  as  if 
addressing  me.  But  she  turned  towards  me,  as 
she  ceased,  with  a  look  of  inquiry. 

"  You  ought  to  be  right,"  I  said ;  "  and  yet, 
after  all,  we  are  apt  to  associate  the  thought  of 
morbid  sensitiveness,  of  melancholy,  of  disappoint 
ment,  with  genius." 

3 


34  RECORD   OF  AJST   OBSCURE  MAN. 

"  Is  it  not  when  it  has  been  profaned  to  serve  a 
worldly  ambition  or  a  selfish  vanity,  that  the  sacred 
fire  consumes,  instead  of  animating  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  so.  But  the  man  of  letters  has,  then, 
his  temptations,  as  well  as  the  aspirant  for  wealth 
or  place  ?  " 

She  was  silent  for  a  few  moments,  and  then  said 
absently,  — 

"  There  are  characters,  however,  not  subject  to 
these  temptations." 

"  Men  of  genius  exempt  from  them  are  rare. 
And  are  they  not,  in  this  case,  apt  to  rest  content 
with  dreams  and  wishes  ?  It  seems  as  if  a  certain 
amount  of  alloy  were  needed  to  fit  the  fine  gold 
for  earthly  use." 

She  appeared  struck  by  this  suggestion. 

"  Yes.  And  then  the  self-distrust,  the  consci 
entiousness,  even,  of  sensitive  natures,  often  holds 
them  back.  Ambition  and  love  of  praise  are  keen 
spurs.  But  then,"  she  added,  recovering  herself, 
"  may  not  the  desire  of  doing  good  be  a  passion  as 
strong  as  either  of  these  ?  " 

"  As  strong,  perhaps,  but  hardly  so  lively  or  so 
impulsive." 

"And  the  indignation  against  wrong?" 

"  That  is  sometimes  a  powerful  propeller,  cer 
tainly." 

"  Oh,"  she  exclaimed,  with   sudden   animation, 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  35 

"  I  believe,  and  you  believe,  I  am  sure,  that  there 
are  characters  which  know  no  hatred  but  that  of 
wrong,  and  whose  strongest  passion  is  the  love  of 
right !  " 

I  did  not  answer,  for  I  had  never  precisely  con 
sidered  the  question. 

"  My  son  is  of  these.  The  thirst  for  knowledge 
and  the  desire  of  doing  good  are  the  strongest 
forces  in  him,  and  I  can  see  that  the  latter  is 
gradually  gaining  the  ascendancy  over  the  former." 

The  effects  of  an  isolated  life  in  a  new  settle 
ment,  upon  persons  accustomed  to  cultivated  so 
ciety,  are  very  various.  Some  yield  at  once  to  the 
influences  of  their  new  position,  and  soon  show  no 
traces  of  former  refinement.  On  others  is  stamped 
the  exasperation  of  futile  regrets  that  accompany 
the  progress  of  deterioration  without  giving  the 
force  to  resist  it.  There  are  others  in  whom  the 
old  life  and  the  new  harmonize,  instead  of  clashing, 
and  who  seem  to  have  drawn  into  their  natures 
the  best  elements  of  both :  the  amenity  of  manners 
remains,  the  graceful  deference  to  the  feelings  of 
others,  while  what  is  merely  conventional  and  ex 
ternal  has  passed  away,  leaving  a  childlike  sim 
plicity  and  directness,  a  perfect  openness  in  word 
and  deed,  which,  when  met  with  in  persons  of 
forcible  character  and  expanded  intellect,  has  a 
charm  not  to  be  resisted. 


36  RECORD   OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

I  had  already  seen  examples  of  this  combina 
tion  of  the  refinement  of  civilization  with  the 
frankness  of  primitive  life ;  and  I  was  the  less 
surprised  that  Mrs.  Colvil  should  thus  think  aloud 
before  me,  for  I  saw  that  her  last  words  were  the 
continuation  of  an  inward  train  of  thought.  I  fol 
lowed  it  up  quickly  to  its  source  and  came  upon 
a  discoveiy. 

"Your  son  is  an  author?" 

"  Not  yet." 

"  He  intends  to  be  ?  " 

"  I  should  rather  say  hopes  than  intends,  —  per 
haps  rather  desires  than  hopes." 

"  It  was  of  his  career,  then,  you  were  thinking  ? 
It  was  to  him  you  were  wishing  this  happiness  of 
benefiting  thousands  ?  "  I  said,  deeply  moved  as  I 
looked  upon  this  infirm  woman,  wrhose  soul  em 
braced  the  world  in  its  love.  Tears  gathered  in 
my  eyes  as  I  spoke.  She  saw  them  gratefully. 

"  Since  he  first  saw  the  light,"  she  said,  after  a 
short  hesitation,  "  the  wish  has  been  in  my  heart 
that  he  might  not  leave  the  world  without  its  be 
ing  a  little  better  for  his  having  been  in  it.  He  is 
the  only  one  remaining  to  me  of  three  sons,  for  all 
of  whom  I  have  offered  the  same  prayer.  God 
may  remove  him,  too,  to  another  sphere  before  he 
has  accomplished  any  visible  work  in  this ;  but  if 
his  life  is  prolonged" 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  37 

She  paused,  as  if  she  shrank  from  embodying  in 
words  hopes  so  sacred,  yet  perhaps  so  baseless. 

"But  you  will  think  my  presumption  greater  than 
it  is.  I  do  not  know  how  I  have  been  led  to  say 
so  much.  I  know  the  disadvantages  that  Edward 
has  suffered  under :  his  irregular  education ;  the 
want  of  the  means  of  instruction  found  in  the  older 
States ;  the  further  deprivation  caused  by  the  weak 
ness  of  his  sight  for  many  years.  I  know,  too,  that 
more  is  required  now  to  make  a  poet  than  a  lively 
imagination  and  a  rhythmical  ear.  Yet,  with  all 
this,  I  believe  that  a  man  who  feels  the  impulse  to 
write,  and  who  writes  in  earnest  of  what  he  has 
himself  seen  and  felt,  will  find,  in  our  wide  coun 
try,  those  who  need  and  will  listen  to  what  he  has 
to  say." 

"  Your  son  has,  perhaps,  already  written  ?  " 

"  I  am  betraying  Edward's  secret.  But  why 
should  I  not  to  you  ?  " 

There  was  something  in  that  you  that  thrilled 
me  with  a  sense  of  new  pleasure.  It  is  a  moment 
of  high  satisfaction  in  the  life  of  a  man  whose 
path  has  lain  along  the  beaten  track,  and  who  has 
found  his  associates  among  the  practical,  not  to  say 
the  worldly,  when  he  first  meets  with  the  recogni 
tion  of  his  claim  to  the  freedom  of  another  com 
munity,  and,  half-doubting,  half-exulting,  descends 
into  his  own  spirit  and  discovers  depths  of  which 


38  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

he  has  been  dimly  aware,  but  which  he  has  never 
ventured  to  explore.  This  pleasure  came  to  me 
first  in  that  lonely  farm-house,  in  the  society  of  the 
infirm  widow  and  her  son.  I  was  the  child  of 
wealthy  parents.  From  my  earliest  youth  every 
thing  had  been  in  my  power, — everything  that 
riches  could  give.  I  was  well  liked  in  society, 
for  I  was  free-handed  and  easy-tempered.  But  no 
one  regarded  me  as  a  man  of  deep  feeling,  nor  did 
I  regard  myself  as  such.  Yet  I  was  conscious  of 
something  within  me  that  had  never  been  put  to 
use,  and  that  was  always  seeking  to  find  its  office. 
This  deeper  side  of  my  nature,  as  it  first  opened 
itself  to  my  friends  of  the  wilderness,  so  they 
alone  have  had  the  key  to  it.  It  has  remained 
closed  to  human  eye  since  the  grave  closed  over 
them.  As  regards  the  world  in  which  I  have  held 
my  daily  walk,  I  have  gone  through  life  thus  far, 
and  shall  go  to  the  end,  with  the  reputation  of  a 
superficial  man. 

"  But  why  shoidd  I  not  to  you  ?  "  The  emotions 
and  thoughts  which  this  question  called  up  glanced 
rapidly  through  me  and  did  not  suspend  my  an 
swer. 

"  It  will  be  safe  in  my  keeping.  You  will  let 
me  see  some  of  his  writings  ?  " 

*'  I  should  be  most  glad  to  have  your  opinion  of 
them,  —  if  only  Edward  consent.  But  he  must 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  39 

consent ;  for  how  can  he  ever  find  courage  to  sub 
mit  his  works  to  the  great  indifferent  public,  if 
he  shrink  from  trusting  them  to  the  eye  of  a 
friend  ?  " 

"  He  has  not  published  anything,  then  ?  " 

"  He  has  not  yet  found  confidence.  He  knows 
that  self-delusion  on  such  a  subject  is  easy.  He 
has  read  his  writings  with  no  one  but  me,  and  he 
fears  my  judgment  is  too  indulgent." 

"  He  has  no  friends,  then,  in  the  neighbor 
hood?" 

"  He  has  acquaintances  among  the  owners  of 
the  nearest  plantations,  and  some  of  them  are  well- 
qualified  to  judge  of  a  literary  work.  They  seem 
to  value  his  society,  and  constantly  invite  him  to 
their  houses ;  but  he  has  never  formed  such  an 
intimacy  with  any  of  them  as  could  enable  him  to 
lay  aside  his  diffidence  and  break  silence  on  such  a 
subject.  He  has,  indeed,  a  friend,  tutor  on  a  plan 
tation  about  twenty  miles  distant,  in  whom  he 
could  confide.  But,  though  this  friend  has  much 
sympathy  with  Edward  on  some  points,  on  others 
he  is  quite  incapable  of  comprehending  him.  He 
is  insensible  to  poetry,  and  has  no  belief  in  its 
power  to  effect  anything." 

I  read  again  ;  but  I  soon  perceived  that  I  was 
no  longer  listened  to  with  undivided  attention. 

o 

The   mother's    eyes    were    raised    from   her  work 


40  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

and  fixed  on  me  at  times  as  before,  —  yet  not,  as 
before,  with  an  intelligent,  sympathetic  glance,  but 
rather  as  if  they  wandered,  impelled  by  some  in 
ward  excitement.  The  slender  fingers  trembled, 

O  ' 

as  they  set  the  hesitating  needle.  She  was  thrill 
ing  with  the  future  of  her  son ;  or  perhaps  her 
tremor  was  caused  only  by  the  thought  of  the 
near  ordeal  she  had  prepared  for  him,  though  it 
was  formidable  only  because  the  first. 

I  did  not  let  her  see  that  I  had  remarked  her 
abstraction,  but  silently  suffered  my  book  to  sink 
and  then  to  close.  Tabitha  took  immediate  ad 
vantage  of  this  pause,  for  which  she  had  perhaps 
been  waiting  with  impatience.  A  sudden  rattling 
of  tongs  and  shovel,  and  banging  of  cooking-uten 
sils  drawn  from  their  lurking-places  by  her  vig 
orous  hand,  recalled  her  mistress  to  the  every-day 
world  and  its  cares.  Her  glance  was  directed  first 
to  the  clock,  then  rested  for  an  instant  with  ap 
probation  upon  Tabitha,  before  it  fell  again  on 
me. 

"  You  are  tired,"  she  exclaimed,  as  she  noticed 
my  indolent  attitude ;  and  an  expression  of  alarm 
clouded  her  face,  as  if  she  feared  she  had  per 
mitted  me  to  overtask  my  strength. 

"  No,  —  but  I  have  read  enough,  perhaps,  for 
this  morning." 

I  mounted  the   ladder  to  my  room,  and  occu- 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  41 

pied  myself  until  summoned  to  dinner.  Edward 
was  present,  but  it  was  not  the  hour  for  conver 
sation.  No  allusion  was  made  by  my  hostess  to 
the  topics  of  the  morning.  Edward  spoke  gayly 
of  his  occupations  without,  and  seemed  eager  to 
return  to  them.  His  eyes  turned  more  than  once 
to  the  window  during  the  brief  meal.  It  was  his 
German  aid  who  was  watched  for.  No  sooner  did 
his  square  bulk  loom  up  in  the  distance  than  Ed 
ward  rose  and  left  us  with  a  few  hasty  words  of 
excuse. 

At  supper  —  the  longest  and  most  important 
of  our  meals  —  the  farmer  was  once  more  the 
attentive  and  agreeable  host.  He  thanked  me 
cordially  for  the  pleasure  I  had  given  his  mother. 
I  soon  perceived  that  her  confidences  had  ex 
tended  farther.  A  slight  agitation,  discernible 
through  the  habitual  calm  of  his  manner,  be 
trayed  that  to  the  rustic  poet  himself,  as  well  as 
to  his  mother,  the  hour  was  a  serious  one  which 
was  to  initiate  a  stranger  into  the  most  sacred  of 
their  household  mysteries. 

As  soon  as  supper  was  over,  I  approached  with 
out  circumlocution  the  subject  which  I  knew  was 
in  all  our  thoughts,  and  boldly  asked  Edward  to 
furnish  from  his  own  stores  the  entertainment  of 
the  evening.  He  assented  frankly,  and,  going  to 
a  case  of  shelves  attached  to  the  wall,  took  from 


42  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

it  several  portfolios.  He  turned  his  eyes  towards 
his  mother  and  stood  as  if  waiting  for  her  to  de 
cide  his  choice. 

"  Read  first no,  begin  with  the  '  Tragedy 

of  Errors.'  " 

He  selected  one  of  the  portfolios,  and,  seating 
himself  near  me,  laid  it  upon  the  table  before  him. 

"  A  drama  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  It  is  in  the  dramatic  form,  but  not  intended 
for  the  stage." 

He  opened  his  portfolio,  but  remained  silent,  as 
if  collecting  confidence  to  begin.  I  availed  myself 
of  this  pause  to  tell  him  that  he  must  not  overrate 
my  critical  skill ;  that  I  had  too  little  to  be  dreaded, 
or  even  to  be  very  useful ;  in  giving  my  opinion  of 
a  literary  work,  I  pretended  to  know  only  what 
interested  or  moved  me. 

"  I  shall  be  satisfied,  if  I  interest  you  ;  more  than 
satisfied,  if  I  move  you.  If  I  fail  to  do  either,  you 
will  tell  me  so  frankly,  and  not  let  me  make  myself 
tedious  ?  " 

I  promised,  and  quite  sincerely. 

Before  beginning  to  read,  Edward  announced 
the  dramatis  persons,  and  gave  me  some  particu 
lars  in  regard  to  them  and  to  the  scene  of  his 
drama.  While  thus  introducing  his  personages, 
and  afterwards  when  discussing  them  with  me,  he 
spoke  of  them  rather  as  of  persons  whom  he  had 


RECORD   OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  43 

familiarly  known  than  as  of  creations  of  his  fancy. 
He  seemed  to  regard  some  of  them  with  a  sympa 
thy  quite  real,  others  with  a  dislike  equally  sincere. 
He  mentioned  occurrences  in  the  lives  of  some  of 
them  which  I  did  not  find  in  the  play,  and  gave 
fuller  details  in  regard  to  incidents  introduced  into 
it.  From  these  circumstances  I  inferred  that  some 
at  least  of  his  characters  were  drawn  from  the  life, 
and  that  the  narrative  itself  had  a  groundwork 
of  truth. 

The  scene  of  the  "  Tragedy  of  Errors  "  is  laid 
on  a  beautiful  plantation,  which  Colvil  described  to 
me  as  if  his  walks  and  rides  had  often  lain  through 
it.  The  time  is  not  distinctly  defined,  but  it  is  in 
the  nineteenth  century,  and,  as  I  inferred  from 
some  passages  in  it,  prior  to  1830.  The  action 
of  the  piece  is  comprised  within  the  limits  of  a 
single  day.  It  is  not  divided  into  acts,  but  into 
five  parts :  Morning,  Noon,  Afternoon,  Evening, 
Night. 

"  Morning  "  opens  in  a  wide  glade,  in  which  the 
field-hands  and  the  other  slaves  of  the  plantation 
are  assembled  to  celebrate  a  joyful  festival.  Two 
days  of  unrestrained  liberty  have  been  granted  by 
their  wealthy  and  indulgent  master,  and  these  they 
prepare  to  crowd  with  every  enjoyment  which 
their  condition  leaves  open  to  them.  Detached 
groups  gather  on  the  wide  plain,  —  some  dancing, 


44  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE   MAN. 

others  singing  in  chorus,  others  engaged  in  athletic 
games.  The  foreground  is  occupied  by  the  higher 
order  of  slaves.  Minstrels  and  preachers  suc 
ceed  one  another.  Emotions,  glad,  mournful,  and 
solemn,  pass  in  turn  over  the  impressible  crowd. 

This  scene  serves  as  a  sort  of  prologue,  in  which 
are  sketched  out  the  antecedents  and  the  surround 
ings  of  the  personages  about  to  be  introduced.  A 
few  figures  detach  themselves  from  the  shifting 
groups  that  glide  by  to  disappear,  and  connect 
themselves  in  the  imagination  with  the  action  of 
the  opening  drama.  The  scene  is  one  of  unre 
strained  freedom  and  diversion.  The  actors  in 
it,  beings  without  responsibility  or  forecast,  should 
enjoy  without  that  alloy  of  regrets  and  apprehen 
sions  which  intrudes  on  the  brief  season  allowed 
to  pleasure  by  the  thoughtful  and  self-denying 
freeman.  But  neither  absolute  power  nor  abso 
lute  dependence  exempts  man  from  his  inheritance 
of  care.  The  pale  cheek  of  woe  and  the  lowering 
brow  of  hate  find  room  among  these  smiling 
faces.  Through  the  tones  of  the  careless  melody 
and  the  pious  prayer,  the  ear  detects  a  latent 
discord  and  a  smothered  curse. 

The  tragedy  begins  with  a  festival.  It  unfolds 
in  the  midst  of  ease  and  security.  Belrespiro  is 
the  abode  of  wealth  and  refinement.  But  the  lux 
urious  modern  mansion,  with  its  prosaic  comforts 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  45 

and  elegances,  may,  as  the  theatre  of  human  pas 
sions,  not  less  than  the  Pelasgic  palace  or  the  media> 
val  fortress,  attain  to  all  the  dignities  of  crime  and 
sorrow.  The  second  scene  of  Morning  introduces 
us  into  a  room  in  the  house  at  Belrespiro.  It  is 
simply  furnished,  —  its  chief  decoration  consisting 
of  natural  flowers.  The  windows,  opening  upon  a 
long  portico,  are  partially  shaded  by  the  festoons 
of  luxuriant  vines.  Three  persons  are  present. 
The  most  striking  figure  is  a  man  of  middle  age, 
seated  near  the  window.  It  is  Stanley,  the  master 
of  the  house.  He  attracts  by  his  handsome  person, 
and  by  a  certain  easy  grace  of  manner.  Stanley 
is  an  accomplished,  highly-bred  man  of  the  world, 
—  polite  to  his  wife,  hospitable  to  his  neighbors, 
indulgent  to  his  servants.  He  has  one  profound 
affection,  —  that  which  he  bears  his  beautiful 
daughter.  To  her  he  gives  a  respect  which  his 
experience  of  life  permits  him  to  accord  but  sel 
dom. 

Near  Mr.  Stanley  is  seated  a  short,  square-built 
man,  with  white  hair  worn  long  and  falling  care 
lessly  about  a  broad,  frank,  meditative  face.  It  is 
Doctor  Hermann,  a  German  refugee,  formerly  tu 
tor  of  the  daughter  of  the  house. 

On  a  sofa  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  Emma 
Fortescue,  the  wife  of  Stanley,  reclines  listlessly. 
Her  delicate  fingers  play  with  a  spray  of  cluster- 


46  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

roses.  From  time  to  time  she  turns  her  languid 
eyes  towards  the  window.  She  has  the  beauty  of 
refinement,  of  grace,  of  taste.  In  her  toilet,  and 
in  the  arrangements  of  this  her  favorite  room,  the 
simplest  means  produce  charming  effects.  Her 
voice  is  plaintive,  with  at  times  a  touch  of  the 
querulousness  of  the  invalid ;  but  when  she  is  deep 
ly  moved,  it  is  low  and  pathetic.  Her  life  has 
two  pleasures,  —  music  and  flowers.  Emma  was 
born  in  a  tropical  climate.  Her  father,  an  Ameri 
can  planter,  had  married  a  rich  West-Indian  widow, 
who  died  in  giving  her  birth.  Emma  was  con 
signed  to  the  charge  of  a  married  sister  almost 
twenty  years  older  than  herself,  who  lavished  upon 
her  the  same  tenderness  she  bestowed  on  her  own 
child,  a  little  girl  of  the  same  age.  When  Emma 
was  seven  years  old,  her  father  claimed  her,  and 
took  her  with  him  to  the  United  States.  The  little 
West-Indian  had  not  ceased  to  grieve  for  her  first 
home  when  a  new  calamity  befell  her,  from  whose 
depressing  effects  she  never  completely  recovered. 
Her  beloved  sister,  with  her  husband  and  children, 
was  on  her  way  to  the  United  States.  They  were 
already  expected  at  the  house  of  Mr.  Fortescue, 
when,  in  their  stead,  arrived  the  news  of  the 
wreck  of  the  vessel  in  which  they  had  sailed  and 
the  probable  loss  of  all  the  passengers.  Nothing 
was  learned  of  the  fate  of  Emma's  relatives.  It 


RECORD  OF  AN   OBSCURE  MAN.  47 

was  never  known  whether  they  were  of  those  who 
remained  with  the  sinking  ship  and  found  a  speedy 
death  beneath  the  waves,  or  of  those  who  secured 
for  themselves  a  place  on  one  of  the  hastily  con 
structed  rafts  and  suffered  a  more  protracted  agony. 
The  storm  which  wrecked  them  had  been  of  such 
violence  that  it  had  reached  far  inland  ;  the  child 
had  herself  trembled,  as  she  looked  from  the  win 
dow  and  saw  the  devastation  around  her  and  heard 
the  crashing  of  the  pines  not  far  from  her  father's 
house.  Emma  Fortescue  was  then  ten  years  old. 
From  that  time  she  led  a  vacant  life  until  her 
marriage.  The  man  whom  her  father  presented 
to  her  as  her  husband  was  full  of  attentions  to 
his  bride,  and  never  ceased  to  bestow  on  his  wife 
eveiy  indulgence  that  wealth  could  furnish.  If 
with  this  complaisance  was  mingled  a  shade  of 
contempt,  the  consciousness  was  confined  closely  to 
his  own  breast.  The  husband  and  wife  live  side 
by  side,  but  in  different  worlds.  He  does  not  sur 
mise  that  the  apathetic  existence  which  flows  on 
indolently  near  his  own  covers  an  under-life  of 
revolt  and  passion. 

Some  of  those  vague  portents  that  attract,  per 
haps,  for  a  moment,  the  mystical  mind,  but  are 
commonly  slighted  by  those  whom  they  should 
warn,  offer  themselves  to  the  little  party  at  Bel- 
respiro,  met  to  await  the  arrival  of  the  absent 


48  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

daughter  and  heiress.  In  the  soft  twilight  of  the 
shaded  room,  as  in  the  sunshine  of  the  open  glade, 
hovers  the  shadow  of  an  approaching  Nemesis. 

Such  are  the  impressions  I  retain  of  the  first 
evening's  reading.  "With  my  recollections  of  the 
play  itself  I  have  doubtless  mingled  some  of  Col- 
viTs  comments  and  explanations,  —  sometimes,  per 
haps,  even  retaining  his  own  words. 

I  had  then  the  habit  of  keeping  a  journal.  I 
gave  it  up  when  I  was  married,  and  have  not 
since  resumed  it.  But,  at  that  period,  I  found 
great  satisfaction  in  intrusting  my  thoughts  and 
experiences  to  this  silent  confidant,  —  silent  for  all 
the  rest  of  the  world,  eloquent  for  me.  My  pres 
ent  adventure  —  for  such  my  young  imagination  did 
not  hesitate  to  call  the  arrival  and  detention  at  a 
lonely  farm-house  —  had  already  filled  some  pages, 
intended  to  recall,  at  a  future  time,  in  all  its  vivid 
ness,  the  story  of  that  happy  week  ;  this  evening 
furnished  several  more.  All  else  that  was  pres 
ent  to  me  then  has  disappeared :  youth,  friend 
ship,  confidence.  A  second  life,  with  other  in 
terests  and  other  hopes,  has  intervened,  and  has 
vanished  in  its  turn.  Little  record,  you  are  faith 
ful  to  your  office  ;  yet  the  man  to  whom  you  de 
liver  up  your  secrets  is  not  the  same  who  con 
fided  them  to  you. 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 


THE  next  morning  the  sun  shone  out  brightly, 
the  air  was  fresh.  I  hailed  the  prospect  of  freedom 
with  the  delight  of  a  convalescent.  Yet  I  appre 
hended  some  maternal  objections  on  the  part  of  my 
anxious  hostess.  When  I  came  down,  I  found  that 
a  council  had  already  been  held  over  me,  and  my 
enlargement  decreed.  Edward  proposed  that  I 
should  accompany  him  to  the  scene  of  his  labors, 
but  immediately  bethought  himself  and  withdrew 
his  invitation :  I  was  not  yet  strong  enough ;  I 
must  keep  on  the  higher  land;  the  ground  to 
which  his  work  called  him  was  low  and  damp.  I 
began  to  remonstrate ;  but  Mrs.  Colvil  seconded  her 
son's  objection,  and  even  Tabitha  put  in  her  pro 
test  :  I  was  not  going  off  to  leave  the  breakfast  she 
had  ready  for  me?  I  would  not  admit  that  my 
health  was  not  sufficiently  restored  to  enable  me  to 
brave  any  danger  which  my  friend  could  encounter, 
but,  finding  it  was  in  vain  for  me  to  withstand  the 
united  forces  of  the  family,  I  surrendered  to  Tabi 
tha,  who  led  the  way  in  triumph  to  the  breakfast- 
table. 

4 


50  RECORD  OF  AJST  OBSCURE  MAN. 

When  I  had  praised  her  skill  both  by  word  and 
deed,  I  selected  from  the  shelves  a  few  books  to 
be  the  companions  of  my  walk ;  for  I  knew  before 
hand  that  the  landscape  would  furnish  few  sugges 
tions  to  the  fancy.  Indeed,  the  only  variety  it  of 
fered  was  in  the  shifting  forms  of  the  clouds,  and 
the  occasional  obscurity  \vhich  they  cast  over  the 
scene,  and  which  was  more  consonant  with  its  mo 
notony  than  the  blazing  sunshine  which  it  momen 
tarily  displaced.  No  flicker  of  light  and  shade 
about  me,  no  blue  hills  in  the  distance.  In  one 
direction,  I  could  trace,  by  their  slight,  broken 
fringe,  the  low  banks  of  the  slowly  moving  river 
which  blessed  and  threatened  the  neighborhood ; 
in  another,  a  pine-wood  bounded  my  view  with  a 
black  line. 

I  walked  to  a  considerable  distance  from  the 
house  before  I  found  a  tree  that  threw  a  shadow 
broad  enough  for  me  to  rest  in.  At  last  I  stopped 
near  a  forlorn  pine  that  had  survived  its  tribe, 
and  seated  myself  on  the  blackened  stump  of  one 
of  its  fallen  companions.  I  threw  my  books  on 
the  grass ;  for,  after  all,  I  did  not  need  them.  The 
melancholy  of  the  scene  acted  on  my  imagination 
as  pleasantly  as  the  richest  and  most  varied  land 
scape  could  have  done.  I  fell  into  day-dreams, 
charming,  but  tranquil.  The  misty  world  of  the 
future  rolled  out  before  me.  From  the  point  where 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  51 

I  was,  branched  out  many  paths,  all  equally  attrac 
tive.  I  entered  one  of  them,  followed  it  for  a  time, 
then  left  it  suddenly  for  another,  which  I  gave  up 
abruptly  in  its  turn,  to  take  one  that  seemed  for  the 
moment  more  alluring,  or  its  end  more  worthy  to 
be  sought.  But  in  whatever  direction  Fancy  led 
me,  whether  she  lured  me  by  visions  of  ambition, 
of  romance,  of  daring  enterprise,  in  all  her  pic 
tures  the  image  of  my  new  friend  was  constant.  In 
every  effort,  in  every  success,  he  was  by  my  side 
as  partaker  or  as  confidant.  Again,  I  abdicated  my 
heroship  in  his  favor,  and  made  him  the  principal 
in  the  scenes  in  which  I  now  consented  in  my  turn 
to  bear  the  secondary  part.  This  part  was  not 
without  its  dignity.  It  was  I  who  was  to  furnish 
to  the  humble  poet  the  courage  and  resolution 
through  which  his  now  obscure  work  was  to  be 
come  fruitful  to  other  minds  than  his  own.  I  was 
to  take  on  myself  the  practical,  the  material  part. 
He  was  to  know  nothing  of  these  irksome  details. 
He  was  only  to  enjoy  the  success  and  be  encour 
aged  by  it  to  higher  efforts.  In  the  end  there  was 
for  him  emancipation  from  this  narrow  life,  and  in 
its  place  ease,  fame ;  for  his  mother,  the  reward  of 
her  exertions  and  faith  ;  for  me,  the  joys  of  dis 
interested  friendship,  and  'perhaps  something  of  the 
generous  pride  of  the  artificer  of  another's  fortune. 
When  I  had  reached  this  climax,  I  returned  to 


52  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

earth  to  examine  a  little  more  closely  the  ground 
work  on  which  my  castle  had  been  raised.     I  called 
up  the  scenes  which  had  passed  before  me  the  last 
evening.     I  revived  the  impression  they  had  made 
upon  me,  and  soon  lost  myself  in  them  as  com 
pletely  as  in  my  own   dreams.     As   I   thus  stood 
among  the  dark  groups  in  the  glade  at  Belrespiro, 
looking   into   the    smiling    or   brooding   faces,  and 
listening  to  the  light   or  mournful   songs,  a  flood 
of  rich  melody  was  poured  upon  the  air,  leaving 
me  for  a  moment  in  doubt  whether  it  were  of  my 
dream    or    of   the    outer   world.      As   I   collected 
myself  to  listen,  it  had  ceased.     After  a  few  mo 
ments  the  same  strain  was  repeated,  and  again  after 
another  interval,  like  the  song  of  a  bird,  and  it 
seemed  to  gush  from  a  like  fountain  of  inward  de 
light.     I  rose,  and,  turning,  saw  the  erect  form  of 
Tabitha   moving   in   the    direction   of   the    house. 
Her  arms  were  folded.     She  bore  on  her  head  a 
large   basket.      She   went  with    a   slow,  measured 
step.     It  was  plain  that  she  was  about  no  task  that 
was  to  be  got  through  with  to  make  way  for  an 
other  or  for  rest,  but  that  she  was  engaged  in  the 
serious  performance  of  an  office  of  which  she  felt 
all  the  dignity.     I  asked  myself,  as  I  had  already 
asked  myself  more  than  once  before,  —  Was  this 
simplicity  a  thing  to  be  admired  or  looked  down 
upon  ? 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN".  53 

This  interruption  did  not  change  the  current  of 
my  thoughts,  but  gave  them  a  more  definite  object. 
I  began  to  compare  the  imaginary  sketches  with 
the  reality.  I  passed  in  review  the  examples  of 
this  foreign  race  which  had  come  under  my  notice, 
and  sought  for  the  poetical  element  which  might  lie 
obscured  for  me  by  the  double  veil  of  my  prejudice 
and  their  unconsciousness.  I  had  already  begun, 
before  I  saw  Colvil,  to  feel  an  increasing  interest  in 
this  dark  people,  so  bound  up  with  us  and  so  sep 
arated  from  us,  always  aliens  in  our  eyes,  but  in 
their  own  as  much  children  of  the  soil  as  our 
selves. 

I  had  learned,  while  I  had  been  travelling  in  the 
Southern  country,  that  the  feeling  which  prevailed 
there  towards  this  race  differed  much  from  that 
then  entertained  in  the  North.  I  found  that  the 
contempt  felt  for  the  negro  by  the  Southerner  is 
not  founded  on  antipathy  to  the  race,  but  attaches 
to  the  condition  of  slave,  the  idea  of  which  is  as 
sociated  with  his  color.  In  the  North,  on  the  con 
trary,  where  negroes  are  comparatively  rare,  and 
where  the  white  man  is  seldom  brought  into  inti 
mate  relations  with  them,  the  pity  which  this  con 
dition  inspires  is  kept  in  check  by  a  certain  re 
luctance  to  salute  as  a  brother  a  being  secretly 
suspected  of  usurping  the  form  of  humanity  with 
out  a  capacity  for  its  nobler  manifestations.  I  had 


54  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

brought  with  me  to  the  South  something  of  this 
feeling,  but  it  had  been  gradually  undergoing  modi 
fication.  I  speedily  became  dispossessed  of  the  no 
tion  that  any  natural  antipathy  exists  between  the 
two  races,  and  began  even  to  doubt  whether  the 
natural  inequality  were  so  great  as  I  had  taken  for 
granted  it  must  be.  I  had  observed  that  not  only 
does  the  Southern  infant  cling  as  closely  to  its  negro 
nurse  as  the  Northern  infant  to  its  Irish  one,  but 
that  the  older  children,  in  families  in  which  the 
relation  of  master  and  slave  was  on  a  kindly  foot 
ing,  looked  up  to  their  attendant  with  confiding 
affection,  and  received  her  counsels  with  even  more 
respect  than  the  admonitions  of  a  Northern  nursery 
maid  are  apt  to  meet  with  from  her  charge.  I  had 
seen  that  the  pillow  of  the  sick  was  smoothed  as  ac 
ceptably  by  a  dark  hand  as  by  a  fair  one.  I  had 
seen  that  in  the  family-council  the  old  servant  had 
a  voice,  and  often  a  decisive  one.  In  fine,  I  saw, 
that,  in  spite  of  all  the  hindrances  interposed  by 
a  servile  condition  and  its  concomitants,  the  dark 
members  of  a  Southern  family  not  infrequently 
obtained  that  ascendancy  which  is  acquired  only 
by  superiority  in  character  and  intellect. 

When  I  was  myself  brought  into  closer  contact 
with  the  descendant  of  the  African,  I  found,  almost 
with  surprise,  that  his  modes  of  thought  were  not 
so  strange  to  me,  that  his  feelings  were  not  outside 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  55 

the  pale  of  my  sympathies,  and  that  the  expression 
of  them  was  often  such  as  I  might  have  adopted 
without  discredit.  The  image  of  the  traditional 
Sambo  which  I  had  brought  with  me  was  displaced 
by  one  more  like  the  reality.  It  is  true,  that,  in  the 
work-field,  and  in  the  coffle,  on  its  forced  migra 
tions,  I  had  more  than  once  encountered  grotesque 
specimens  of  the  race  ;  but  I  was  aware  that  here 
influences  had  been  at  work  which  no  form  of  hu 
manity  can  resist,  and  that  the  by-streets  of  Euro 
pean  cities  could  offer  examples  of  as  low  a  type.  I 
did  not,  therefore,  generalize  from  these.  I  knew, 
indeed,  that,  in  the  opinion  of  experts  in  these  mat 
ters,  the  negro  was  never  destined  to  shine  in  meta 
physics  or  in  mathematics.  Perhaps  it  was  because 
I  had  not  yet  discovered  in  myself  any  special  apti 
tude  for  either  of  these  sciences,  that  I  did  not  feel 
myself  bound  to  disclaim  relationship  with  him  on 
that  ground.  As  my  opportunities  for  information 
enlarged,  I  became  convinced,  both  by  my  own  ob 
servation  and  from  stories  told  me  by  Southern 
planters,  that,  in  the  noblest  attributes  of  humanity, 
in  sense  of  justice,  in  benevolence,  in  magnanimity, 
the  dark  man  had  fully  established  his  claims  to 
brotherhood  with  our  best. 

In  aid  of  my  gradual  enlightenment,  came  back  a 
reminiscence  of  my  childhood.  Among  its  shadowy 
images  moved  the  form  of  a  black  man.  But  this 


56  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

man  always  stood  for  me  separated  from  his  race. 
He  had  a  foreign  air  and  accent.  He  seemed  to  me 
more  like  a  figure  out  of  an  Eastern  tale  than  like 
a  vulgar  negro.  I  had  heard  wonderful  stories  of 
him,  as  the  guardian  of  a  beautiful  lady,  as  the 
unseen  benefactor  of  noble  exiles.  He  was  for  me 
a  man  mysterious  and  apart.  When  I  learned  his 
condition  and  history  more  accurately,  they  took  a 
more  prosaic  character.  Still  I  had  never  classed 
him  with  the  common  negro,  nor  thought  of  draw 
ing  from  his  virtues  conclusions  favorable  to  the 
race.  But  the  proofs  which  had  recently  come  to 
my  knowledge  of  the  height  of  excellence  to  which 
the  negro  character  was  capable  of  attaining  had 
made  me  ask  myself  more  than  once  whether  the 
marvel  of  my  childhood  was  not  perhaps  a  perfect 
example  rather  than  an  exception. 

Some  vestiges  of  a  prejudice  remain,  even  after 
the  reason  has  been  disabused.  It  was  thus  in  my 
case.  I  believed  that  I  had  arrived  at  a  state  of 
entire  candor  in  my  judgment  of  the  black  man, 
but  in  my  relations  with  him  I  was  still  conscious 
of  a  sense  of  distance  greater  than  that  which  sepa 
rated  me  from  the  white  man  of  humble  rank.  I 
had  observed  that  the  mind  of  Colvil  was  much 
more  free  from  such  prepossessions  than  my  own. 
He  had  neither  the  antipathy  of  a  Northerner  for 
an  alien  race,  nor  the  contempt  of  a  Southerner  for 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  57 

an  abject  one.  I  thought  I  could  perceive  that 
his  prevailing  sentiment  towards  this  unfortunate 
people  was  one  of  not  disrespectful  compassion. 
The  scenes  which  he  had  brought  before  me  had 
heightened  the  interest  I  had  begun  to  feel  in  this 
race  and  my  desire  to  form  a  more  correct  estimate 
of  its  genius  and  character. 

These  scenes  still  occupied  my  fancy  when  I  met 
him  at  dinner.  I  was  eager  to  pour  out  upon  him 
the  ideas  they  had  set  in  movement.  When  I 
had  several  times  returned  to  my  topic  after  the 
conversation  had  diverged  from  it,  he  perceived 
that  I  wished  to  draw  him  into  a  discussion.  He 
did  not  decline  it.  When  our  simple  meal  was 
concluded,  instead  of  leaving  me,  as  I  had  feared, 
he  lingered,  as  if  held  by  the  attraction  of  the  sub 
ject  ;  yet  uneasily  in  the  beginning,  —  for  he  knew, 
and  so  did  I,  that  the  broad  German  was  on  the 
look-out  for  him  somewhere ;  but,  at  last,  after  a 
questioning  glance  at  the  landscape  without,  as  if 
taking  counsel  in  some  case  of  conflicting  duties,  he 
seemed  to  decide  the  matter  within  himself,  and, 
happily,  in  my  favor. 

He  spoke  like  a  man  who  does  not  deliberately 
intrude  on  another  a  subject  which  lies  near  his 
own  heart,  but  who  enters  upon  it  gladly  when 
he  sees  the  promise  of  a  sincere  interest.  He 
spoke  with  feeling,  yet  with  a  certain  restraint,  as 


58  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

if  afraid   of  endangering   my  sympathy  by  over 
taxing  it. 

He  called  my  attention  to  the  fact  that  the  dark 
men  of  America  form  a  new  race,  and  can  no 
longer,  with  any  propriety,  be  called  African.  He 
made  me  remark,  too,  that  they  are  a  very  mixed 
race,  and,  as  such,  entitled,  at  a  future  time,  to  con 
tribute  some  vigorous  passages  to  the  story  of  hu 
manity. 

"  The  blood,"  he  said,  "  of  the  conquering  Fela- 
tah,  of  the   enduring   Muzgu,  of   the   song-loving 
Sulima,  of  the  ingenious  Mandingo,  of  the  intrepid 
Begharmi,  mingles  in  the  veins  of  this  rising  people 
with  that  of  some  of  the  highest  European  races. 
Here  and  there  we  indeed  find,  in  some  individual, 
the  original  type  of  one  of  these  contributing  tribes 
or  nations   reproduced  in  its  purity.     The   slave- 
trader's  favorite  booty,  the  Macqua,  is  found  as  ugly 
and  as  hardy  on  the  banks  of  some  of  our  rivers  as 
on  those  of  the  Zambesi ;  I  have  seen  wild  dances 
which  it  seemed  only  the  transmigrated  soul  of  a 
Nijempani  could  have  animated  ;  you  gave,  and  apt 
ly,  the  name  of  4  Spanish  Don '  to  the  major-domo 
at  the  Highlands  ;  there  is  a  sturdy  Saxon  at  the 
anvil  not  twenty  miles  from  us ;  and  I  have  seen  in 
the  cotton-field  unmistakable  Celts.     But,  notwith 
standing  the  marked  contrasts  offered  by  individuals, 
this  new  people  is  gradually  assuming  characteris- 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.        59 

tics  which  we  recognize  as  general.  In  conversing 
with  persons  of  this  race,  we  are  sensible  of  a*  cer 
tain  originality  in  their  views.  Their  humor,  their 
pathos,  has  a  different  quality  from  that  of  the 
Anglo-Saxon  ;  their  thought  has  another  shading 
than  ours. 

"  It  has  seemed  to  me  that  this  element,  so  foreign, 
yet  so  familiar  to  me,  is  to  be  recognized  in  Alex 
ander  Dumas.  I  think  I  feel  the  African  soul  in 
his  exuberant  genius,  which  moves  along  with  such 
a  careless  delight  in  itself, — in  the  irresistible  droll 
ery  that  laughs  and  mocks  through  his  pages,  —  in 
his  light  satire,  so  piquant,  yet  so  woundless.  Per 
haps  the  African  descent  that  is  claimed  for  the 
Russian  poet  Puschkin  may  be  thought  to  reveal 
itself  in  the  luxuriant  growth  of  his  imagery,  in 
the  soft  fall  of  his  verse,  which  flows,  one  of  his 
countrymen  says,  '  like  pearls  over  velvet.' 

"  The  dark  men  of  America  are  not,  more  than 
any  other  people,  to  be  judged  by  their  lowest  class. 
When  we  speak  of  the  English,  we  do  not  mean 
the  pale  masses  of  the  manufacturing  towns,  nor 
the  troglodyte  population  of  the  coal  regions.  No 
more,  when  we  would  judge  of  the  capacities  of  our 
dark  countrymen,  should  we  consider  them  in  the 
resentful  or  apathetic  renderers  of  a  forced  domestic 
service,  nor  in  the  imbruted  gangs  of  the  rice-plan 
tation. 


60  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

"  I  was  much  struck  by  the  account  of  the  mor 
al  condition  of  Europeans  who  had  been  held  in 
slavery  by  the  Arabs,  given  by  Mr.  Dupuis,  who 
was  British  Vice- Consul  in  Mogadore  at  a  time 
when  white  Christians  still  stood  on  equal  terms 
with  black  Pagans  in  the  Barbary  slave-markets, 
and  when  the  crews  of  vessels  wrecked  on  the  Sa 
hara  coast  were  a  lawful  prize.  Mr.  Dupuis  was  in 
strumental  in  obtaining  the  release  of  many  of  these 
unfortunate  men.  He  says,  that,  '  on  their  first  ar 
rival  in  Mogadore,  those  that  have  been  any  con 
siderable  time  in  slavery  appear  lost  to  reason  and 
feeling,'  —  that  they  are  '  indifferent  to  everything, 
abject,  servile,  and  brutlfied,' —  that  'their  spirits 
are  broken,  their  faculties  sunk  in  stupor.'  'It 
seems,'  he  says,  c  that  the  hardships  they  have  en 
dured,  without  any  protecting  law  to  which  they 
can  apply  for  redress,  have  destroyed  every  spring 
of  exertion  or  hope.'  And  he  saw  them  only  after 
their  release !  It  is  not  surprising  that  the  Arab 
of  Africa  felt  contempt  for  Europeans  and  Chris 
tians,  since  he  probably  formed  his  opinion  from 
those  he  had  known  as  his  own  slaves.  Is  not 
as  rash  a  judgment  sometimes  pronounced  on  the 
bondmen  of  America  ? 

"  It  has  been  my  fortune  to  study  them  on  the 
estate  of  a  wealthy  and  indulgent  master,  a  man  of 
refined  tastes,  to  whom  deliberate  cruelty  would 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  61 

have  been  abhorrent,  and  who  was  both  too  proud 
and  too  fond  of  ease  to  exact  of  his  dependents 
more  than  they  cheerfully  rendered.  The  new 
comer  there  might  have  been  received  with  the 
consolation  which  Clytemnestra  offered  to  Cas 
sandra  :  — 

'  It  is  no  wrathful  Fate  that  sends  thee  hither, 
To  take  thy  place  among  our  many  slaves. 
Since  bondage  \vas  decreed  thee,  great  the  boon 
To  serve  a  house  of  long-established  wealth; 
For  those  whom  chance  has  suddenly  enriched 
Are  hard  in  all  things,  and  observe  no  measure. 
Here  thou  wilt  have  that  which  is  suitable.' 

"  Every  privilege,  indeed,  which  custom  has  any 
where  secured  to  the  slave  was,  on  this  plantation, 
accorded  as  a  right.  The  hours  of  work  were 
reasonable,  food  abundant,  holidays  not  infrequent. 
A  certain  amount  of  service  performed,  the  work 
man  owned  his  time  and  his  strength.  He  might 
spend  them  on  labor  of  his  choice,  or  squander 
them  on  leisure.  The  slaves  on  this  plantation 
did  not  live  under  that  systematic  subjection,  that 
iron  routine,  which  deadens  the  higher  nature  as 
fatally  as  a  rougher  tyranny  crushes  it.  They 
were  permitted  to  be  men.  With  them,  affection 
was  not  without  sentiment,  nor  passion  without 
dignity.  The  soul,  not  wholly  the  prisoner  and 
servant  of  the  body,  announced  its  own  separate 
wants,  and  sought  and  found  their  satisfaction. 


62  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

The  life  of  these  dependent  people  had  its  shades 
certainly,  and  deep  ones,  but  even  these  were  not 
unfavorable  to  the  development  of  the  poetic  and 
religious  faculties. 

"  On  this  plantation  I  have  frequently  mingled 
with  the  light-hearted  crowd  on  days  of  festival, 
or  with  the  same  crowd  transformed  into  devout 
worshippers  on  occasions  of  religious  solemnity. 
They  came  to  disregard  my  presence,  and  were  no 
more  constrained  before  me  than  with  each  other. 
I  have  often  stood  in  sincere  admiration  before  their 
minstrels,  and  still  oftener  before  their  preachers." 

"  But  do  not  the  inaccuracies  of  their  language 
and  the  imperfections  of  their  pronunciation  de 
tract  from  the  effect  of  their  eloquence  ?  " 

"  The  men  of  real  ability  among  them  seldom 
speak  inaccurately,  —  that  is,  illogically ;  and  true 
eloquence  overbears  all  minor  defects." 

"  Yet  sometimes,"  I  replied,  "  at  our  own  politi 
cal  meetings,  when  listening  to  a  man  of  real  power, 
but  deficient  culture,  I  have  found  the  effect  not 
merely  of  his  eloquence,  but  almost  of  his  argu 
ments,  lost  upon  me." 

"  There  are  certain  modes  of  expression,  and, 
above  all,  certain  intonations,  to  which  we  attach 
the  idea  of  vulgarity  ;  and  this  association  is  often 
too  strong  for  our  judgment.  I  know  something  of 
this  weakness,  myself.  My  father  was  a  purist  in 


KECOED  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  63 

language.  He  was  strict  in  the  repression  of  inno 
vation.  His  ear  was  almost  over-sensitive  in  regard 
to  defective  modulation  and  slovenly  enunciation, 
which,  it  must  be  allowed,  offend  too  often  in  our 
public  speakers.  My  linguistic  pursuits  have  made 
me  very  catholic  in  regard  to  forms  of  speech; 
diversities  in  these  interest  me  as  varieties  of  a 
plant  a  botanist ;  but  I  have  still  something  of 
my  father's  sensibility  to  tones  and  inflections, — 
which,  indeed,  are  influenced  by  something  deeper 
than  fashion  or  habit." 

"  I  have  observed,"  I  said,  "  that  the  higher  class 
of  this  dark  race  have  pleasant  voices,  and  modu 
late  them  agreeably.  In  truth,  I  have  sometimes 
found  them  superior  in  this  respect  to  those  they 
served." 

"  They  have  a  sense  of  beauty  and  harmony, 
which  expresses  itself  whenever  and  however  their 
condition  permits." 

"  I  have  heard  much,"  I  said,  after  a  few  mo 
ments'  pause,  "  of  the  eloquence  of  African  preach 
ers,  but  I  have  not  yet  had  the  good-fortune  to 
meet  with  one  who  justified  their  reputation." 

"It  is  possible  you  may  not  have  it.  It  has 
more  than  once  been  my  chance  to  observe  a  re 
markable  phenomenon.  I  have  been  standing  en 
tranced,  like  the  rest  of  his  hearers,  before  one  of 
these  rude  prophets,  when  suddenly  the  electric 


64  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

current  has  been  broken.  The  spell  by  which  he 
held  his  audience  is  dissolved.  The  seer  has  van 
ished.  An  ordinary  man  is  before  you,  dealing  out 
commonplaces  in  language  trite  or  turgid.  I  have 
looked  for  the  explanation,  —  nor  long.  A  party  of 
white  persons  had  entered,  —  fashionable  women, 
perhaps,  and  men  condescending  or  supercilious,  — 
brought  by  curiosity  to  hear  a  specimen  of  negro 
eloquence." 

"  The  poor  slave  !  even  in  his  moments  of  exal 
tation,  he  is  quelled  by  the  lordly  eye  of  his  su 
perior." 

"  I  believe,"  replied  Edward,  "  that,  in  general, 
it  is  not  awe  that  works  the  change,  but  the  sud 
den  introduction  of  an  unsympathizing  element." 

"  I  have  seen  the  same  failure  in  an  illiterate 
white  preacher  of  real  eloquence,  when  called  to 
speak  before  a  cultivated  audience.  I  confess,  in 
his  case,  I  thought  the  desire  of  being  equal  to  his 
reputation  had  something  to  do  with  his  falling  so 
far  below  it.  He  abandoned  his  usual  simple, 
nervous  language  for  a  studied  diction,  and  made 
a  little  display  of  scholarship  quite  uncalled-for. 
I  afterwards  heard  him  in  his  own  Bethel,  and 
formed  a  very  different  estimate  of  his  powers." 

"  Among  the  weaker  sort,"  Edward  answered, 
"  vanity  has,  no  doubt,  a  share  in  this  sudden  des 
titution  of  apostolic  gifts.  I  have  seen  among  the 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  65 

black  preachers  men  of  real  ability,  sincere  men, 
too,  make  themselves  absurd,  when  called  upon  to 
speak  before  an  audience  composed  of  white  per 
sons.  This  is  especially  apt  to  be  the  case  when 
the  occasion  has  been  foreseen  and  prepared  for. 
But,  in  general,  this  temporary  suspension  or  in- 
thralment  of  the  powers,  of  which  we  have  been 
speaking,  is  due  neither  to  servility  nor  self-love, 
but  to  an  influence  of  which  all  men  are  more  or 
less  susceptible.  No  faculty  is  more  under  the 
control  of  exhilarating  or  depressing  influences  than 
that  of  language.  Sympathy  is  the  breath  of  life 
to  the  poet.  I  have  known  men  strong  enough 
to  hold  themselves  independent  of  it,  —  yet  few. 
These  have  been  men  severely  schooled  by  suffer 
ing,  and  whose  whole  being  was  possessed  by  an 
earnest  purpose.  The  slave  does  not  commonly 
want  the  needed  discipline ;  and  when  he  is  great 
enough  to  be  formed,  not  crushed  by  it,  no  man  is 
more  likely  to  devote  himself  to  a  single  and  un 
selfish  object.  The  adoration  of  the  Deity,  and  the 
awakening  of  other  souls  to  His  love  and  worship, 
often  make  the  voluntary  life  of  the  man  whose 
material  existence  has  no  office  for  his  will  or  his 
hope." 

"  I  can  understand  the  power  of  these  men  over 
their  fellows,  but  not  that  they  should  have  any 
over  you.     Yet  it  is  true  that  those  who  are  in 
5 


66  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

continual  attendance  on  their  masters  wear  off  all 
coarseness,  and  have  nothing  in  their  manner  which 
offends." 

"  The  ablest  and  most  eloquent  among  them," 
said  Edward,  smiling,  "  are  not  usually  those  who 
are  in  constant  communication  with  the  master 
race,  nor,  indeed,  those  who  have  received  most 
instruction.  They  are  more  commonly  found 
among  the  followers  of  mechanic  arts  which  em 
ploy  the  hands  without  engrossing  the  thoughts. 
These  men  enjoy  greater  independence  than  the 
others.  They  are  necessarily  more  trusted  to  them 
selves.  They  are  forced  to  use  their  own  faculties. 
They  do  not  commonly  work  under  the  eye  of  a 
task-master.  They  are  not  obliged  to  be  always 
ready  at  call.  Wood-cutting,  cattle-tending,  boat 
ing  of  produce,  any  occupation  which  implies  a 
certain  independence  and  gives  opportunity  for 
silent  meditation,  is  more  favorable  than  house 
hold  service.  Agriculture  on  a  small  plantation, 
where  few  hands  are  employed,  does  not  so  much 
impede  the  expansion  of  the  intellect.  But  the 
obsequiousness,  the  alertness,  required  of  a  domes 
tic  servant,  accord  very  ill  with  the  grand,  tranquil 
flow  of  religious  inspiration.  And  the  wretch  — 
one  of  a  gang  as  abject  as  himself — who  has 
toiled  all  day  under  the  lash  of  a  driver,  what 
has  he  strength  for  but  perhaps  a  dumb,  implor- 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.        67 

ing  prayer  to  a  Protection  divined,  but  not  yet 
made  manifest  ?  " 

"  But  from  what  source  do  the  men  you  speak 
of  draw  their  ideas,  their  language?" 

"  They  owe,  indeed,"  Edward  answered,  "  little 
to  schools.  And  that  great  garden  of  modern  lit 
erature  in  which  we  wander  at  will,  passing  from 
one  flower  or  fruit  to  another  so  carelessly  that 
we  hardly  know  well  the  perfume  or  flavor  of  any, 
is  shut  to  them.  But  they  have,  perhaps,  their 
compensation.  If  they  are  confined  to  one  volume, 
it  is  a  volume  which  is  in  itself  a  library.  Let  us 
not  forget  that  they  have  been  trained  by  that  great 
teacher  through  whose  influence  England  learned  to 
speak  with  one  tongue  and  to  feel  with  one  heart, 
—  the  same  that  gave  to  Germany  a  classic  lan 
guage,  and  that  infused  into  the  springing  literature 
of  these  countries  those  elements  of  elevation  and 
energy  that  have  distinguished  the  productions  of 
English  and  German  mind  from  those  of  any  other 
modern  people.  Shall  we  call  that  man  unculti 
vated  whose  mind  is  imbued  with  the  deep  wisdom, 
the  sublime  devotion,  the  grand  imagery  of  the 
Book  of  Books  ?  And  where  shall  we  find  a  better 
school  of  language,  a  deeper  well  of  English  unde- 
filed,  than  in  our  common  version  of  the  Old  and 
New  Testaments  ?  " 

"  Do  all  these  preachers  know  how  to  read  ?  " 


68  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

"  Many  of  them.  Those  who  do  not,  when  they 
are  men  of  strong  intellect,  lose  less  by  the  depri 
vation  than  we  are  apt  to  suppose.  For  every  aid 
that  civilization  gives  us,  we  sacrifice  something  of 
our  self-reliance,  and,  with  this,  something  of  our 
power.  The  force  of  memory  possessed  by  some 
of  these  men,  who  cannot  store  learning  up  in  libra 
ries  and  find  it  ready  to  their  hand,  but  must  trust 
to  their  own  brain  for  the  preservation  of  whatever 
mental  treasures  they  collect,  would  astonish  many 
a  German  scholar.  Only  the  Druids,  perhaps,  may 
have  surpassed  them.  Their  wealth,  too,  is  gathered 
slowly ;  each  new  accession  is  pondered  and  scruti 
nized." 

"I  have  had  few  opportunities  of  listening  to 
negro  eloquence.  I  once,  indeed,  heard  a  black 
man  relate  to  an  audience  of  his  own  race  a 
mournful  incident  in  simple  and  touching  language. 
I  was  moved  with  the  rest.  But  when  he  height 
ened  the  pathos  of  his  narrative  by  noting  the  fine 
ness  of  the  handkerchief  with  which  his  heroine 
dried  her  tears,  my  sympathies  received  a  sudden 
shock.  He  passed  from  the  grief  of  the  bereaved 
to  the  procession  of  carriages  to  the  grave,  and  de 
scribed  with  unction  the  splendor  and  profusion  of 
the  funeral-feast.  I  have  always  found  my  interest 
thus  cut  short.  It  is  true,  I  have  heard  no  black 
preacher  of  eminence.  I  have  seen  reports  of  ne- 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  69 

gro  discourses  in  which  I  have  found  originality 
certainly,  and  rude  power;  but  the  grotesque  and 
vulgar  images,  which  no  doubt  were  well  enough 
adapted  to  those  they  were  meant  for,  would,  I  am 
afraid,  have  made  me  laugh  in  spite  of  myself,  if  I 
had  been  of  the  audience." 

•  "  Perhaps  we  should  have  found  ourselves  laugh 
ing,  if,  with  our  modern  ideas,  we  could  have  heard 
Homer  reciting  the  retreat  of  Ajax,  whom  he  com 
pares  to  an  ass  belabored  by  boys,  who  break  their 
sticks  on  his  sluggish  back,  and  hardly  get  him  out 
of  the  corn-field  when  he  has  eaten  himself  full. 
And  what  shall  we  say  of  his  comparing  a  hero 
tossing  on  his  bed,  revolving  his  griefs  and  pro 
jects  of  vengeance,  to  a  hungry  man  hastily  turn 
ing  and  re-turning  his  dinner  on  the  coals,  im 
patient  to  see  it  cooked?  This  would  be  found  a 
very  droll  simile,  if  we  heard  it  used  by  a  negro 
on  a  pathetic  occasion. 

"  Homer's  unconsciousness  of  the  scale  of  digni 
ties  established  by  modern  taste  has  been  a  sore 
trial  to  his  translators.  It  is  hard  upon  them,  with 
their  refined  notions,  to  oblige  them  to  compare 
warriors  pressing  out  to  battle  to  wasps  irritated 
by  mischievous  boys,  —  men  following  their  leader 
to  the  fight  to  sheep  following  the  ram  to  water,  — 
a  hero  walking  distractedly  about  the  body  of  his 
fallen  companion  to  a  cow  moving  round  and  round 


70  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

her  first  calf.  We  have  little  conception  of  the 
sort  of  equality  that  exists  between  man  and  the 
other  animals,  where  they  live  familiarly  together, 
as  in  primitive  life,  ancient  or  modern.  We  hardly 
understand  comparing  a  man  to  a  beast  at  all,  un 
less  in  derision ;  at  least,  it  must  be  to  a  wild  one, 
who  is  to  us  almost  a  fabulous  being. 

"  It  is  not  easy  to  render  in  language  dignified 
enough  for  modern  ears  the  cooking  scene  in  which 
Achilles  cuts  up  the  meat  and  Patroclus  tends  it 
roasting.  In  those  old  times,  the  physical  had,  if 
not  a  greater,  a  more  recognized  importance  than 
now.  Food,  clothing,  as  essential  to  man,  nor  yet 
altogether  a  matter  of  course,  were  entitled  to  re 
spectful  mention.  Nestor,  when  he  tries  to  incite 
one  of  the  chiefs  to  go  out  to  reconnoitre  the  Tro 
jans,  promises  him,  in  the  first  place,  boundless  glo 
ry,  and  then  that  he  shall  be  invited  to  all  the  feasts. 
Zeus  himself  is  touched,  when  he  sees  Achilles  fast 
ing  while  the  rest  of  the  chiefs  are  at  the  banquet. 
The  relenting  Achilles  invites  the  suppliant  Priam 
to  dine,  reminding  him  that  even  the  beautiful- 
haired  Niobe  remembered  food  when  fatigued  with 
weeping.  Priam  not  declining,  the  swift  Achilles 
kills  a  sheep ;  his  companions  skin  it,  cut  it  up,  spit 
the  pieces,  and  roast  them  judiciously.  All  being 
ready,  Automedon  hands  the  bread,  but  Achilles 
himself  helps  to  the  meat.  When  Andromache, 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  71 

in  her  first  anguish  after  the  death  of  Hector,  fore 
bodes  the  fate  of  her  little  son,  she  sees  him,  who 
used  to  4  eat  marrow  on  his  father's  lap,'  sipping 
from  a  charitable  cup  enough  to  wet  his  lips,  but 
not  to  quench  his  thirst,  and  walking  timidly  near 
the  table  where  his  father's  equals  sit  with  their 
sons,  looking  for  a  place  where  he  can  crowd  in. 
"  Dress  is  a  matter  of  moment  with  Homer. 
He  has  pleasure  in  embroidered  mantles,  in  soft 
woollen  vestments,  in  bright  red  belts,  in  handsome 
sandals.  When  his  heroes  prepare  to  go  forth, 
their  toilet  is  described,  —  the  more  minutely,  the 
greater  the  personage.  When  Agamemnon  wakes 
from  his  false  dream,  eager  to  take  Troy  that  very 
day,  the  soft  tunic  which  he  puts  on,  beautiful 
and  new,  the  great  cloak,  the  handsome  shoes  he 
binds  on  his  glossy  feet,  are  of  too  much  impor 
tance  to  be  passed  over  in  silence,  whatever  the 
haste  to  summon  the  assembly.  The  poet  would  in 
crease  our  respect  for  Andromache  by  telling  us  she 
is  attended  by  a  well-dressed  maid.  When  this 
princess  falls  backward  senseless,  he  does  not  omit 
to  tell  us  that  her  beautiful  head-dress  drops  off;  he 
delays  a  moment  to  describe  it,  and  to  tell  us  how 
she  came  by  her  veil.  Telemachus,  when  he  takes 
off  at  night  his  soft  garment,  gives  it  to  his  old 
nurse,  who  folds  it  carefully  and  hangs  it  on  a  peg. 
Ulysses  describes  minutely  his  cloak  with  its  em- 


72  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

broidery  and  its  golden  clasp,  and  the  tunic,  supple 
and  shining,  which  sat  on  him  '  as  the  skin  on  a 
dried  onion.'  '  Many  women,'  he  says,  'gazed  upon 
it.'  The  goddesses  themselves  are  supposed  to  have 
a  taste  in  dress.  Even  the  venerable  daughter  of 
Kronos  cannot  dispense  with  embroidery  and  gold 
en  clasps.  She  must  have  a  hundred  tassels  to  her 
girdle,  nor  is  the  tip  jewel  enough  for  the  '  well- 
bored  '  celestial  ear. 

"  The  primitive  poets  have  no  artificial  standard 
of  dignity.  They  have  that  simple  self-respect 
which  makes  a  man  feel  that  whatever  really  im 
presses  or  interests  him  is  worthy  to  do  so. 

"  If  you  were  to  listen  to  one  of  these  field- 
preachers  of  whom  I  speak,  you  would  find  in  their 
discourses  a  truly  sublime  thought,  a  tender  touch 
of  Nature,  immediately  followed  by  what  would 
seem  to  you  an  incongruity  or  a  bathos.  You 
would  find  things  of  very  unequal  interest,  in 
your  eyes,  put  on  the  same  level.  When  we 
would  judge  of  these  men,  who,  through  their 
condition,  are  at  a  distance  of  ages  from  our 
peculiar  civilization,  we  must  make  the  same  al 
lowances  that  we  do  in  the  case  of  the  ancients. 
I  am  persuaded  that  those  illustrations  and  de 
scriptions  which  the  critics  cavil  at  in  Homer  and 
the  other  poets  of  antiquity  would  seem  natural 
and  striking  to  one  of  them. 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.        73 

"  I  once  saw  a  lady,  who  deigned  to  listen  to  a 
neoro  preacher,  highly  amused  when  he  quoted  the 
text,  '  Woe  unto  them  that  draw  iniquity  with  cords 
of  vanity,  and  sin  as  it  were  with  a  cart-rope  ! '  She 
kindly  dropped  her  veil  to  hide  her  merriment, 
when,  shortly  after,  she  heard  him  say,  — '  For  the 
bed  is  shorter  than  that  a  man  can  stretch  himself 
on  it,  and  the  covering  narrower  than  that  he  can 
wrap  himself  in  it.'  She  supposed  he  was  draw 
ing  his  homely  illustrations  from  his  own  customary 
occupations  and  accommodations,  and  did  not  sur 
mise  that  her  mirth  was  moved,  not  by  the  negro 
Isaiah,  but  by  the  greatest  of  the  Hebrew  prophets. 
These  metaphors  might  have  been  the  preacher's 
own.  He  adopted  them,  no  doubt,  because  he  had 
a  full  sense  of  their  force.  But  he  had  an  equal 
sense  of  the  force  of  imagery  drawn  from  the 
grandest  objects  in  Nature,  for  he  had  lived  among 
them.  The  hills,  the  clouds,  the  winds,  the  rush 
ing  torrents,  had  been  his  companions ;  he  found 
his  illustrations  in  them,  in  the  implements  of  his 
labor,  in  the  surroundings  of  his  actual  life,  in 
differently. 

"  These  new  men  have  the  courage  which  be 
longs  to  the  writers  and  orators  of  youthful  peoples. 
They  have  not  the  fear  of  critics  before  their  eyes. 
They  trust  to  their  own  intuitive  sense  of  the  force 
of  words,  and  draw  their  images  from  objects  fa- 


74  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

miliar  to  themselves  and  their  hearers.  We  mod 
erns  —  the  educated  and  half-educated  of  us,  above 
all  —  are  so  afraid  to  rely  upon  ourselves,  that  even 
for  our  metaphors  we  want  an  authority.  It  would 
almost  seem  that  they  are  the  more  readily  adopted, 
the  less  we  are  qualified  to  judge  of  their  propriety. 
We  talk  of  lynx-eyed^  though  most  of  us  know 
nothing  of  the  eye-sight  of  the  lynx  except  from 
hearsay.  '  A  fox  in  cunning,'  4  A  lion  in  courage,' 
are  familiar  phrases  in  the  mouths  of  people  who 
have  not  had  experience  of  the  qualities  of  these 
animals,  and  who,  if  they  had,  would  perhaps  find 
their  names  less  to  the  purpose.  I  believe  that 
those  who  know  the  lion  well  find  him  a  vulgar 
animal.  I  dare  say  in  Africa  a  '  lion-hearted  king ' 
would  mean  a  king  with  a  heart  like  his  of  Dah 
omey. 

"  So  pedantic  are  we,  that  a  too  bold  simile  or 
an  out-of-the-way  word  can  blind  us  to  a  good 
thought  and  take  the  charm  from  pathos.  What 
should  we  say  to  these  lines,  if  they  were  written 
now? 

'But  when  she  felt 

Herself  down  soust,  she  waked  out  of  dread 
Straight  into  grief.' 

Or  these? 

'  Seven  months  he  so  her  kept  in  bitter  smart, 
Until  such  time  as  noble  Britomart 
Released  her  that  else  was  like  to  starve 
Through  cruel  knife  that  her  dear  heart  did  carve.' 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  75 

"  We  are  obliged  to  put  up  with  the  old  poets ; 
but  let  a  word  which  has  become  strange,  or  is  em 
ployed  now  only  in  a  trivial  sense,  be  used  as  they 
would  have  used  it,  and  we  are  offended  or  child 
ishly  amused. 

"  I  am  not  taking  the  part  of  eccentricity.  A 
man  who  understands  these  conventionalities  and 
advisedly  shocks  them  is  as  far  from  the  simplici 
ty  which  alone  gives  force  and  dignity  as  the  un 
cultivated  man  who  attempts  a  phraseology  finer 
than  is  natural  to  him.  What  I  mean  to  say  is, 
that  we  are  disqualified  by  this  fastidiousness  for 
judging  of  men  who  have  not  been  trained  in  the 
same  fashions  and  prejudices.  We  find  them  ridic 
ulous  because  their  expressions  are  so  to  our  ears. 
There  are  those  to  whom,  by  traditional  use,  cer 
tain  words,  to  us  obsolete,  have  the  same  force  they 
had  to  Spenser.  We  misjudge  men  of  our  own 
race,  of  a  different  cultivation ;  how  much  more 
the  blacks,  who  have  still  less  opportunity  of  learn 
ing  the  fashionable  use  of  words ! 

" '  But  to  his  speech  he  answered  no  whit, 
But  stood  still  mute,  as  if  he  had  been  dum, 
Ne  sign  of  sense  did  show,  ne  common  wit, 
As  one  with  griefe  and  anguish  overcum, 
And  unto  everything  did  answer  mum.' 

"  If  this  were  brought  forward  as  a  specimen 
of  negro  verse,  I  believe  it  would  excite  no  little 
merriment;  but  imagine  the  respectful  change  of 


76  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

countenance,  when  it  should  be  announced  that  it 
belongs  to  him 

'"Whose  deep  conceit  is  such 
As  passing  all  conceit  needs  no  defence.' 

"  If  we  come  to  the  peculiarities  of  the  negro 
pronunciation,  —  peculiarities  rapidly  wearing  out 
with  the  higher  class  of  blacks,  —  why  should  we 
find  in  the  inability  or  neglect  of  this  recently  for 
eign  race  to  pronounce  our  language  as  we  do  some 
thing  absurd  and  comic,  and  regard  it  as  a  sign 
of  inferiority  ?  The  differences  between  their  pro 
nunciation  and  ours  are  of  the  same  nature  with 
those  which  distinguished  the  various  dialects  which 
flowed  together  to  form  our  mother-tongue,  —  of  the 
same  nature  with  those  that  are  found  at  the  present 
day  in  the  pronunciation  of  the  same  word  by  differ 
ent  nations  of  the  Gothic  stock.  If  our  dark  coun 
tryman,  in  offering  the  prayer,  which  he  sends  up 
with  more  fervor  and  perhaps  with  more  real  faith 
than  most  of  us  do,  '  Give  us  this  day  our  daily 
bread,'  says  gib  where  we  say  give,  he  pronounces 
this  word  no  otherwise  than  Luther  did  ;  if  he  calls 
father  fader,  so  did  the  great  Swede,  the  champion 
of  Protestant  Christendom.  In  our  own  language, 
we  have,  in  more  than  one  case,  authority  for  two 
forms  of  the  same  word.  Do  we  venture  to  smile 
at  Milton  when  he  calls  a  leopard  a  libbard? 

t  The  libbard,  and  the  tiger,  and  the  mole, 
Rising,  the  crumbled  earth  above  them  threw.' 


KECORD  OF  AN  OBSCUEE  MAN.  77 

Spenser  tells  us  that  the  river  Severn  takes  its 
name  from  the  fair  Sa5rina ;  and  that  '  Demons 
shaire  was,  that  is  Devonshire.'  We  take  a  pleas 
ure  in  tracing  these  mutations  and  divergences, 
where  our  equals  in  blood  are  concerned ;  it  is  on 
ly  in  the  case  of  the  Africo-American  that  they 
become  matter  of  derision.  Yet  he  has  often  only 
gone  forward  in  the  path  our  ancestors  travelled 
before  him,  and  yet  more  often  unconsciously  re 
traced  it.  When  he  says  I  hob  for  I  have,  he  goes 
back  to  the  Anglo-Saxon,  (Jiabbe,)  coincides  with 
the  ancient  Roman  Qiabeo)  and  with  the  modern 
German  (Tiabe).  The  negro  would  understand 
more  readily  than  we  the  motto, — 

Lybba  £»u  f>aet  f>ii  lybbe. 

"  If  we  come  to  real  mutilations  of  the  lan 
guage,  we  shall  find  we  keep  him  in  countenance 
better  than  we  allow.  We  smile  when  he  calls  his 
mistress  his  missis;  but  the  dignified  magistressa, 
having  been  first  reduced  to  mistress,  has  suffered 
this  further  degradation  with  us  too,  though  we  dis 
guise  it  from  ourselves  by  writing  the  word  in  this 
case  with  three  letters,  Mrs.,  one  of  which  is  no 
longer  heard  in  it.  We  write  it  phonetically,  when 
we  would  represent  negro-talk." 

All  this  time  we  had   remained  sitting   at   the 


78        RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

table.  Tabitha  had  for  some  minutes  been  hover 
ing  near  it  with  a  disturbed  and  uncertain  expres 
sion,  whose  meaning  I  well  understood,  though  I 
was  careful  not  to  betray  my  recognition  of  it. 
She  cast,  from  time  to  time,  an  inquiring  glance  at 
her  mistress,  who  did  not  respond,  her  eyes  being 
intent  on  her  work,  and  her  mind,  apparently,  upon 
our  conversation.  Poor  Tabitha's  look  grew  con 
stantly  more  imploring  and  her  movements  more 
significant,  until  they  at  last  drew  the  attention  of 
Edward,  who,  with  a  kind  smile  and  a  motion  of 
his  hand,  gave  her  the  permission  she  was  waiting 
for.  She  instantly  bore  down  upon  the  table  and 
began  the  removal  of  the  dinner-equipage,  whose 
neglect  had  been  long  reproaching  her  punctual 
conscience.  With  true  African  tact,  however,  she 
performed  her  task  with  as  much  celerity  and  as 
little  noise  as  possible.  I  had  expected  to  see  her, 
as  usual,  plant  her  kettle  of  steaming  water  in  the 
midst  of  the  great  hearth  and  assemble  all  her 
plates  and  dishes  about  it,  in  order  to  perform  her 
after-dinner  functions  with  all  due  state  and  cere 
mony.  I  reproached  myself  for  a  slight  sense  of 
irritation  I  had  felt  in  advance,  when  I  saw  the 
considerate  creature  carrying  all  this  apparatus  out 
of  the  house,  with  the  evident  intention  of  accom 
plishing  these  solemn  rites  in  the  open  air.  The 
animated  clash  which  always  signalled  their  per- 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN".  79 

formance  thus  caine  softened  to  our  ears,  and  made 
an  apt  accompaniment  to  the  song  which  was  a 
necessary  part  of  the  ceremonial.  This  song,  in 
which  the  plaintive  and  the  merry  were  quaintly 
mingled,  harmonized  with  the  thoughts  our  conver 
sation  had  called  up.  As  it  now  rose  in  wild,  jubi 
lant  strains,  now  sank  to  an  almost  inaudible  sigh, 
it  seemed  as  if  the  good  and  evil  genius  of  Africa 
were  at  watch,  alternately  revelling  and  grieving 
near  us. 

We  sat  for  a  few  moments  in  silence.  The  song 
died  away  to  a  monotonous  chant.  It  was  as  if  the 
struggle  and  the  hope  were  over,  and  the  old  torpor 
had  settled  down  again. 


80  EECOED   OF  AN   OBSCURE  MAN. 


IV. 

"  You  are  beginning,"  said  Edward,  the  next 
morning,  when  he  found  himself  held  at  the  break 
fast-table  by  the  questions  I  had  in  store  for  him, 
suggested  by  the  conversation  of  the  day  before,  — 
"  you  are  beginning  to  come  under  the  influence 
of  the  charm  which  this  tropic  race,  in  whose  na 
ture  and  lot  the  pathetic  and  the  humorous  are  so 
strangely  mingled,  exerts  over  a  Northern  imagina 
tion." 

"  You  have  felt  it  ?  " 

"  I  felt  it  as  you  do,  when  I  first  came  in  contact 
with  them.  But  this  attraction,  blended  of  surprise 
and  pity,  gradually  gave  place  to  a  deeper  senti 
ment,  as  I  knew  them  better  and  reflected  more 
seriously  on  their  condition." 

"  I  believe  I  should  feel  an  affection  for  them,  if 
I  saw  much  of  them  ;  though  perhaps  you  are  right 
in  supposing  that  as  yet  it  is  my  imagination  that  is 
interested,  rather  than  my  heart.  I  think  I  should 
make  a  study  of  their  character,  as  you  have,  if  I 
stayed  long  among  them.  It  often  puzzles  me.  I 
fall  sometimes  from  admiration  to  contempt,  in  a 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  81 

way  that  is  unpleasant.  I  was  a  short  time  ago  at 
the  house  of  a  planter  whose  embarrassments  had 
forced  him  to  sell  some  of  his  slaves,  —  among  oth 
ers,  one  who  had  served  him  in  a  responsible  place 
with  ability  and  integrity.  My  host  was  kind- 
hearted,  and  felt  this  necessity  deeply,  especially 
in  the  case  of  this  particular  man.  But  he  owned 
to  me  that  his  regrets  were  somewhat  relieved, 
when  he  found  that  the  poor  fellow,  in  the  midst 
of  his  grief,  had  room  for  resentment  at  the  low 
price  for  which  he  had  been  sold,  which  he  re 
garded  as  an  indignity.  I  had  felt  so  much  sym 
pathy  for  the  man,  that  I  was  angry  with  him  and 
myself,  when,  against  my  will,  I  found  myself 
smiling  at  this  absurdity." 

"  And  yet  a  similar  pride  was  not  found  un 
worthy  of  the  great  Talbot,  when  he  was  captive 
to  the  French  and  they  proposed  to  exchange  him 
for  a  common  man :  — 

'Which  I  disdaining  scorned,  and  craved  death 
Rather  than  I  would  be  so  vile  esteemed.' 

Sense  of  honor  takes  strange  forms  in  man,  all  the 
world  over." 

"  You  will  leave  the  black  man  nothing  peculiar 
but  his  virtues.  My  prejudices  have  so  often  stood 
rebuked  before  these,  that  they  are  not  capable  of 
a  new  shock  from  that  quarter.  I  have  learned  to 
think  him  unrivalled  in  the  love  that  seeketh  not 


82  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE   MAN. 

its  own,  that  suffereth  long  and  is  kind.  I  remem 
ber  to  have  heard,  in  my  childhood,  of  the  great 
disinterestedness  of  a  black  man  whom  I  sometimes 
saw  at  my  father's  house.  Since  I  have  been 
travelling  in  a  slave  country,  I  have  heard  in 
stances  of  the  same  sort  which  have  surprised  and 
touched  me." 

Here  I  related  to  Colvil  a  story  which  I  had 
heard  a  short  time  before,  of  a  slave  who  had  been 
liberated  by  his  master  and  had  established  himself 
in  a  Free  State.  He  acquired  property.  His  master 
lost  his,  and  died,  leaving  two  children  unprovided 
for.  His  old  servant  made  himself  their  guardian, 
gave  them  an  education,  and,  continuing  to  toil  at 
his  trade,  supplied  them  with  the  means  of  main 
taining  their  position.  He  did  this  through  a  third 
person,  their  relation,  on  whom  he  enjoined  secrecy 
as  to  the  source  of  their  revenue,  that  the  young 
men  might  not  suffer  from  a  sense  of  obligation  to 
so  humble  a  person. 

"  But  do  you  know,"  I  continued,  after  I  had 
finished  my  narration,  "  that  there  are  those  who 
see  in  this  very  disinterestedness  of  the  negro  in 
regard  to  the  white  man  a  proof  of  conscious  in 
feriority  ?  I  have  heard  this  asserted  by  some 
of  your  planters.  It  is  an  instinct,  they  say, 
similar  to  that  which  binds  some  of  the  inferior 
animals  to  man ;  self-respect,  the  sense  of  his 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  83 

own  value,  forbids  the  Anglo-Saxon  to  lose  him 
self  in  another ;  the  Roman  sacrificed  himself  for 
nothing  less  than  his  country." 

"  I  have  heard  this  theory  maintained,"  replied 
Colvil,  "by  an  amiable  and  generous  man.  He 
used  to  assert  that  selfishness  is  our  first  duty  in 
transactions  with  subordinates.  'We  admire,'  he 
would  say,  'the  dog  who  gives  his  life  to  his 
master ;  but  what  should  we  say  of  a  man  who  de 
voted  himself  for  his  dog?  The  inferior  knows 
his  place  by  instinct,  and  feels  himself  exalted  by 
having  something  to  offer  to  the  superior,  who,  on 
his  part,  takes  but  his  due,  and  confers  in  honor 
more  than  he  gains  in  convenience.'  He  brought 
forward,  in  confirmation  of  his  opinion,  the  disinter 
estedness  of  women,  who  make  their  small  sphere 
seem  ample,  since  there  is  room  for  a  large  gen 
erosity  to  move  in  it.  His  tone  grew  tender  in  the 
course  of  this  illustration,  and  he  ended  by  telling 
me  of  his  mother,  of  her  trials,  her  fortitude,  her 
self-forgetfulness.  The  good  man  had  more  of  his 
mother  in  him  than  he  knew.  While  he  spoke, 
I  was  smiling  to  myself  at  the  recollection  that 
he  had  shown  himself  capable  of  gratitude  to  a 
slave.  He  afterwards,  on  a  very  trying  occa 
sion,  gave  proof  of  a  disinterestedness  which,  if 
he  had  faith  in  his  own  theory,  must  have  been 
humiliating  to  look  back  upon.  Fortunately,  it  is 


84  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

harder  for  a  man  to  pervert  his  nature  than  his 
judgment. 

"  Happily  for  human  nature,  examples  of  that 
loyalty,  of  that  self-sacrifice  of  man  to  man,  which 
is  the  type  of  and  the  preparation  for  absolute  de 
votion  to  the  All-Perfect,  are  found  in  every  race 
and  every  rank.  When  I  was  reading  in  the 
'  Talisman '  the  scene  between  De  Vaux  and  the 
raging  Richard,  I  remembered  to  have  seen  a  negro 
slave  withstand  an  unreasonable  master  with  the 
same  courage  and  the  same  humility.  Do  you 
recollect  ? 

"  '  Thou  art  a  false  traitor,  De  Vaux  I  I  would 
I  were  strong  enough  to  dash  thy  brains  out  with 
my  battle-axe ! ' 

"  '  I  would  you  had  the  strength,  my  liege,  and 
would  risk  its  being  so  employed.  The  odds  would 
be  great  in  favor  of  Christendom,  were  Thomas 
Multon  dead  and  Richard  himself  again.' 

"  The  eminence  of  the  negro  race  in  the  Chris 
tian  virtues  has  almost  brought  them  into  dis 
credit  in  our  time,  but  it  has  no  monopoly  of 
them.  Shakspeare  had  known  a  servant  as  en 
tire  in  his  self-devotion  as  your  liberated  slave  :  — 

'  I  have  five  hundred  crowns, 
The  thrifty  hire  I  saved  under  your  father. 
Take  that,  and  He  that  doth  the  ravens  feed, 
Yea,  providently  caters  for  the  sparrow, 
Be  comfort  to  my  age!     Here  is  the  gold. 


RECORD  OF  AN   OBSCURE  MAN.  85 

All  this  I  give  you.    Let  me  be  your  servant. 
Though  I  look  old,  yet  I  am  strong  and  lusty. 
I'll  do  the  service  of  a  younger  man, 
In  all  your  business  and  necessities.' 

"  I  have  lately  been  looking  over  the  accounts  of 
persons  who  have  received  the  Montyon  prize  for 
fidelity  to  masters  or  superiors.  M.  Magi,  of  Mar 
seilles,  had  in  his  service,  when  he  lost  his  fortune 
in  one  of  the  French  revolutions,  a  servant,  not 
only  as  disinterested,  hut  as  poor  in  spirit  as  the 
most  grateful  negro  slave.  This  man  supported 
his  aged  master  until  his  own  infirmities  rendered 
him  almost  incapable  of  work.  He  then  applied  to 
a  bureau  de  charite  for  assistance,  and  devoted  all 
that  he  received  to  his  master,  whose  name  he 
would  not  allow  to  be  inscribed  on  the  list  of  the 
poor,  though  he  could  thus  have  doubled  the  al 
lowance. 

"  Among  the  persons  to  whom  the  Montyon 
prize  has  been  adjudged  for  devotion  to  their  mas 
ters  is  one  man  who  gave  proof  not  only  of  the 
gentler,  but  of  the  heroic  virtues.  This  man  was 
a  negro,  —  a  slave  on  a  sugar-plantation  in  St.  Do 
mingo, —  by  name  Eustache.  When  the  Revolu 
tion  broke  out,  he  rescued  his  master,  M.  Belin  de 
Villeneuve,  and  conducted  him,  together  with  a 
number  of  other  planters  who  had  likewise  placed 
themselves  under  his  protection,  through  infinite 


86  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

dangers,  to  a  seaport,  where  they  all  embarked  for 
the  United  States.  The  vessel  in  which  they  sailed 
was  taken  by  a  privateer.  Eustache  is  not  dis 
couraged.  He  organizes  a  plot  to  retake  the  ves 
sel.  While  the  captors  are  carousing,  he  falls 
upon  them  at  the  head  of  the  colonists,  and 
makes  them  prisoners  in  their  turn.  He  carried 
the  vessel  safely  into  Baltimore.  News  came  that 
order  was  reestablished  in  St.  Domingo.  The 
party  returned,  still  under  the  guidance  of  Eu 
stache.  As  they  landed,  they  were  attacked  by 
the  insurgents.  Eustache  again  succeeded  in  res 
cuing  his  master  and  in  conducting  him  to  a  place 
of  safety.  He  now  devoted  himself  wholly  to  the 
care  of  M.  Belin,  who  was  very  old,  and  whose 
sight  soon  became  so  much  impaired  that  he 
could  no  longer  enjoy  the  solace  of  books.  Eu 
stache  had  never  learned  to  read.  He  felt  deep 
ly  his  inability  to  soothe  the  sleepless  nights  of 
his  infirm  master.  Nothing  seemed  to  be  impos 
sible  to  his  resolution.  He  obtained  instruction  pri 
vately,  and  one  day  appeared,  newspaper  in  hand, 
ready  to  let  in  the  outer  world  once  more  upon  the 
solitude  of  the  poor  old  man.  In  return  for  his 
devotion,  his  master  gave  him  his  freedom  ;  but 
Eustache  did  not  feel  himself  released  from  his 
service  until  death  came  between  them.  He  then 
went  to  Paris,  where  he  might  at  length  have  lived 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  87 

for  himself.  '  But  he  had  acquired  the  habit  of  be 
neficence,'  says  the  account  I  have  seen,  and  could 
not  live  without  indulging  it.  His  master  had  pro 
vided  for  him  out  of  the  little  remnant  of  his  for 
tune.  He  devoted  this  money,  and,  when  it  was 
gone,  his  earnings,  to  the  support  of  poor  widows, 
of  the  sick,  of  workmen  out  of  employment.  When 
he  was  spoken  to  on  the  subject  of  his  good 
deeds,  and  learned,  through  the  surprise  they  called 
forth,  that  he  had  been  doing  something  strange 
and  beautiful,  he  put  away  from  him  the  praise 
that  was  offered :  '  It  is  not  for  men  ;  I  do  it  for 
the  Master  above.'  The  medal  of  honor  was  ob 
tained  for  him,  and  his  good  deeds  were  recorded, 
to  give  an  example  to  others,  not  as  a  reward  to 
himself." 

44  St.  Domingo  must  have  been  a  land  of  heroes," 
I  exclaimed,  — 44  of  Christian  heroes.  I  have  known 
a  man,  a  slave,  from  that  island,  who,  if  there  had 
been  a  foundation  like  that  of  Montyon  in  this 
country,  would  certainly  have  received  the  prize  by 
acclamation,  —  unless,  indeed,  there  were  more  of 
the  same  stamp  whose  virtues  remain  unrecorded, 
as  his  probably  will.  I  have  seen  this  man  at 
our  house  in  my  childhood.  He  did  not  come 
there  as  a  distinguished  guest ;  he  was  a  hair 
dresser,  my  poor  hero.  Perhaps  the  interest  in 
the  negro  race  that  you  discover  in  me  is  in  some 


88  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

degree  due  to  him ;  for  he  is  associated  with 
recollections  of  my  mother.  I  have  often  watched 
his  dark  fingers,  as  they  were  busy  with  the  soft 
curls  that  shaded  her  sweet,  pale  face.  I  never  saw 
him  after  her  death,  but  I  have  learned  his  history 
from  my  father,  and  I  have  heard  anecdotes  of  him 
from  other  persons.  He,  like  your  Eustache,  left 
St.  Domingo  at  the  time  of  the  Revolution.  He 
came  to  New  York  with  his  master  and  mistress, 
and  served  them  there,  until,  by  the  death  of  his 
master,  his  mistress  was  left  entirely  dependent 
upon  him.  He  learned  to  dress  hair  in  order  to 
support  her,  and  had  such  success  that  he  was  able 
to  supply  her,  not  only  with  comforts,  but  with 
many  of  the  expensive  luxuries  to  which  she  had 
been  accustomed.  When  it  was  suggested  to  him 
that  he  would  do  well  to  buy  his  freedom,  he 
would  not  hear  of  it ;  his  mistress,  he  said,  could 
now  feel  that  she  had  a  right  to  his  services,  but, 
if  he  were  a  free  man,  they  might  impose  on 
her  a  sense  of  obligation.  Another  anecdote  that 
I  have  heard  of  him  shows  that  he  had  all  the 
delicacy  as  well  as  the  generosity  of  your  Mar 
seilles  servant.  A  friend  of  his  former  master 
arrived  in  New  York,  after  many  wanderings, 
with  little  to  rely  upon  but  his  Creole  insouciance 
and  self-complacency.  Our  hair-dresser  heard  his 
name  by  chance,  and  recognized  it  as  that  of  a 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  89 

guest  at  his  master's  table.  He  sought  him  out, 
found  that  he  was  living  in  a  pretty  good  apart 
ment,  but  on  a  very  spare  diet.  He  knew  the 
tastes  of  the  stranger,  and,  without  introducing 
himself  into  his  presence,  returned  at  once  to  his 
own  house,  and  engaged  his  wife  to  employ  her 
skill  in  the  preparation  of  a  dinner  for  his  old 
master's  friend.  The  dinner  was  sent;  and  this 
attention  was  repeated  on  several  successive  days, 
with  all  precautions  for  concealing  the  name  of 
the  sender.  When  the  system  was  fairly  under 
way,  he  went  to  pay  his  respects  to  the  new-comer, 
as  if  he  had  just  heard  of  his  arrival,  and  inquired 
respectfully  how  he  found  himself  in  New  York. 
The  stranger  told  him  that  he  was  getting  on  very 
well.  '  My  arrival  here  has  become  known,'  he 
said,  4  and  the  authorities  let  me  want  for  nothing.' 
Our  friend  went  home  to  exult  with  his  wife  over 
the  success  of  his  stratagem.  It  was  through  her 
that  the  story  became  known.  She  used  to  tell 
it  confidentially,  with  much  enjoyment  of  its  hu 
mor,  —  but  not,  indeed,  until  many  years  after  the 
victim  of  this  pious  fraud  had  left  New  York." 
"  4  Blessed  are  the  poor  in  spirit ! ' : 
"  It  appears  that  it  is  the  easier  to  practise  the 
charity  that  seeketh  not  her  own,  the  less  we  have 
of  our  own  to  look  after,"  I  suggested. 
"Yes,  —  it  would  seem  that  this  large-heartedness 


90  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

has  been  especially  bestowed  upon  those  whose 
earthly  ambitions  and  hopes  have  a  limit  which 
cannot  be  passed  over.  It  is  the  answer  to  that 
question  of  the  seemingly  disinherited  children  of 
the  Great  Parent :  '  Hast  thou  but  one  blessing,  my 
Father  ? '  " 

"  Yet  this  man,"  I  went  on,  after  answering 
some  questions  which  Edward  put  to  me  in  regard 
to  my  St.  Domingo  hero,  "yet  this  man  appeared 
to  be  of  pure  African  descent.  His  features  were 
of  the  negro  cast,  though  he  had  an  agreeable 
countenance.  Have  not  these  people  made  an  ex 
traordinary  advance  in  their  servitude  ?  Cannot 
the  attainment  of  such  a  height  of  virtue,  at  only 
the  remove  of  a  generation  or  two  from  the  most 
frightful  barbarism,  almost  reconcile  us  to  sla- 

?5% 

T~*V  • 
"  If  the    result    you    suppose   were    proved,    it 

might,  indeed,  do  something  towards  consoling 
us." 

"  Is  not  this  bondage,  in  fact,  a  guardianship 
exercised  by  an  elder,  stronger  race  over  a  weak 
er  one  for  the  benefit  of  both  ?  " 

"If  we  could  only  be  sure  that  the  restraining 
hand  of  the  guardian  would  be  withdrawn  as  soon 
as  his  ward  attained  majority ! 

"  The  man  of  whom  you  speak  had  undoubtedly 
been  brought  up  under  good  influences.  Others 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.        91 

of  his  race,  who  have  been  placed  in  like  favorable 
circumstances,  have  made  great  progress  even  in 
slavery.  They  have  been  made  acquainted  with  a 
pure  and  elevating  religion.  But  for  this  to  be  a 
benefit  to  them,  they  must  already  have  been  in  a 
condition  to  receive  it.  If  it  had  sought  them, 
tinder  its  own  benign  aspect,  in  their  first  home, 
it  would  have  found  the  same  welcome.  It  is  far 
more  congenial  to  the  negro  African  than  the  Ma 
hometan  creed  which  is  now  violently  supplanting 
Paganism. 

"  The  portion  of  Africa  occupied  by  black  peoples 
is  of  vast  extent,  and  contains  numerous  nations 
and  tribes,  exhibiting  marked  diversities  of  charac 
ter,  and  standing  at  different  grades  of  civilization. 
The  ideas  current  among  us  in  regard  to  the  ne 
groes  of  Africa  have  been  drawn  chiefly  from  ac 
counts  we  have  heard  of  peoples  living  near  the 
most  frequented  coasts,  who  have  been  subjected  to 
corrupting  influences  from  without,  to  which  their 
degradation  is  to  be  attributed,  rather  than  to  in 
herent  depravity  or  stupidity.  The  traveller  finds, 
as  he  advances  into  the  country,  the  people  of 
finer  personal  appearance,  of  gentler  manners ; 
they  are  more  hospitable,  more  industrious,  more 
honest.  When  Central  Africa  has  been  fully  laid 
open  to  the  world,  as  there  is  now  a  prospect  that 
before  many  years  it  will  be,  we  shall  be  called 


92  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

upon  to  revise  many  of  our  opinions.  I  am  con 
vinced  that  the  result  of  the  exploring  expeditions 
which  England  is  now  constantly  sending  out,  and 
which  English  persistence  will  not  suffer  to  slacken 
until  their  end  is  attained,  will  be  an  increased  re 
spect  for  the  African. 

"  Among  the  travellers  who  have  already  pub 
lished  their  accounts  of  Africa,  we  find  that  the  most 
trustworthy  and  those  who  have  had  the  best  means 
of  information  are  those  who  make  the  most  favor 
able  report.  Men  of  cultivation  and  refined  habits, 
who  have  penetrated  far  enough  to  see  the  real 
African,  feel  no  contempt  for  his  society.  Park 
says  he  spent  a  very  pleasant  forenoon  with  the 
headman  of  the  village  of  Samee,  —  who  had  in 
vited  a  party  of  his  friends  to  dine  with  the  white 
man,  —  and  that  he  readily  accepted  his  invitation 
to  stay  until  the  cool  of  the  evening ;  the  company 
of  the  village  Dooty  and  his  guests  being  « the  more 
acceptable,  as  their  gentle  manners  offered  a  strik 
ing  contrast  to  the  rudeness  and  barbarity  of  the 
Moors.'  Clapperton,  leaving  Sackatoo,  says  of  his 
parting  with  the  minister  of  the  Felatah  chief,  —  c  I 
went  to  take  leave  of  my  old  friend,  the  Gadado, 
for  whom  I  felt  the  same  regard  as  if  he  had  been 
one  of  my  oldest  friends  in  England.'  When, 
after  a  short  absence,  Laing  returned  to  Falaba, — 
where  he  had  passed  some  weeks,  —  he  found  that 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  93 

this  capital  had  all  the  c  charms  of  home.'  '  I  felt,' 
he  says,  '  that  sort  of  contented  happiness  which 
men  feel  when  returning  to  the  comforts  of  their 
own  home.'  He  adds,  that  '  he  is  proud  to  ac 
knowledge  that  he  spent  with  this  people,  [the 
Sulimas,]  and  their  neighbors,  many  happy  days, 
without  casting  one  longing  thought  towards  more 
refined  society  or  the  enjoyments  of  England.'  He 
speaks  in  the  highest  terms  of  the  enlightenment 
and  good  sense  of  their  king,  — '  as  honest-hearted  a 
man,'  he  says,  '  as  ever  existed,'  —  of  his  impartial 
justice,  of  the  dignified  simplicity  of  his  manners. 
When  he  parted  from  this  good  old  man,  he  says,  — 
4 1  felt  as  if  I  had  parted  from  a  father.'  Read 
what  Denham  says  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  in 
terior, —  of  their  industry,  their  skill  in  weaving 
and  dyeing,  of  their  love  of  music  and  poetry. 
Above  all,  hear  his  testimony  to  the  gentleness 
and  simplicity  of  their  manners." 

Here  Edward  rose  and  took  a  volume  from  the 
bookcase. 

"  This  is  what  he  says,  when  taking  his  last  leave 
of  Negroland :  —  'If  it  should  be  thought  I  have 
spoken  too  favorably  of  the  natives,  I  can  only 
answer  that  I  have  described  them  as  I  found 
them,  —  hospitable,  kind-hearted,  honest,  and  lib 
eral.  To  the  latest  hour  of  my  life  I  shall  re 
member  them  with  affectionate  regard ;  and  many 


94  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

are  the  untutored  children  of  Nature  in  Central 
Africa  who  possess  feelings  and  principles  that 
would  do  honor  to  the  most  civilized  Christian.'  ' 

"  I  can  understand  this  feeling,"  I  said.  "  I  have 
frequently  felt  myself  moved  to  gratitude  hy  the 
genuine  kindness  of  these  poor  people,  since  I  have 
been  travelling  about  here  alone ;  but  I  attributed 
it  to  their  Christian  training,  not  to  their  African 
heart." 

"  Some  of  the  most  disinterested,  as  well  as  some 
of  the  most  intelligent  black  men  I  have  known," 
replied  Colvil,  "  have  been  native  Africans.  When 
I  first  came  into  this  Southern  country,  where  there 
was  so  much  that  was  new  to  me  in  scenery,  in 
natural  productions,  in  manners,  all  had  a  charm, 
even  the  most  common  things  showing  themselves 
to  me  under  a  new  form.  But  nothing  attracted 
me  so  much  as  this  strange  race,  with  which  I  then 
first  came  into  communication.  I  took  great 

O 

pleasure  in  drawing  out  the  old  legends  which 
had  been  handed  down  to  them  by  their  foreign 
ancestors,  and  in  tracing  the  African  tradition  in 
their  customs  and  superstitions.  When  I  have  had 
the  good-fortune  to  meet  with  a  native  African,  I 
have  tried  to  extract  from  him  the  history  of  his 
life,  and  such  particulars  as  he  might  retain  in  his 
memory  of  the  customs  of  his  native  place.  It 
has  often  been  a  slow  process.  For  I  have  re- 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN".  95 

marked,  that,  of  all  slaves,  the  native  African  is 
the  most  distrustful  and  the  least  communicative. 
The  higher  sort  shroud  themselves  in  a  proud 
silence ;  the  lower  hide  under  a  mask  of  dull  in 
difference.  I  do  not  know  whether  this  is  the  case 
with  them  when  they  first  fall  into  servitude,  or 
whether  it  is  a  lesson  learned  from  experience ;  for 
most  of  the  native  slaves  I  have  met  had  already 
known  bondage  in  South  America  or  in  the  West 
Indies.  Their  confidence,  however,  once  granted, 
is  given  fully  and  freely.  I  have  remarked  that 
they  bestow  their  affection  reluctantly  on  one  of 
the  tyrant  race,  but  that,  when  it  is  gained,  their 
fidelity  is  inflexible. 

"  Some  of  the  most  inert  and  sullen-looking 
negroes  in  the  work-field  have  been  among  my 
best  instructors.  Their  whole  aspect  has  been 
changed  for  me  as  soon  as  they  came  to  a  per 
ception  of  real  sympathy.  I  have  found  sensibility 
and  manliness  where  I  had  seen  only  stolidity  and 
stupid  endurance.  From  some  of  these  men  I  have 
gathered  particulars  in  regard  to  the  customs  and 
principles  which  prevailed  in  the  place  of  their 
birth  quite  inconsistent  with  the  character  of  an 
imbruted  or  even  an  entirely  savage  people. 

"  I  have  met  with  men  of  the  superior  tribes 
who  have  given  me  information  in  regard  to  the 
constitution  of  some  of  the  negro  states  which  filled 


96  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

me  with  surprise,  so  much  did  these  accounts  differ 
from  the  ideas  commonly  entertained  of  African  in 
capacity  for  civil  and  political  organization.  Civil 
ization  would  seem  among  these  peoples  to  follow 
very  much  the  same  path  as  on  other  continents. 
Republics  are  found  there  maintaining  themselves 
side  by  side  with  monarchy  in  various  stages. 
There  are  federal  republics,  each  state  having  its 
own  elective  chief,  and  all  owing  allegiance  to  one 
common  elective  head.  The  people  there  are  not 
ignorant  of  the  words  '  rights '  and  '  privilege  ' ; 
they  withstand  encroachment;  they  are  on  their 
guard  against  innovation.  My  conversations  with 
these  men  have  often  recalled  to  me  a  passage  in 
De  Gerando's  instructions  to  the  traveller  in  coun 
tries  inhabited  by  savage  nations:  — 

"  '  The  explorer  of  these  remote  regions,'  he  says, 
'journeys  in  the  past.  With  each  step  he  passes 
over  a  century.  These  peoples,  whom  our  ignorant 
vanity  despises,  are,  in  fact,  monuments  of  an 
tiquity  more  worthy  to  interest  us  than  those  of 
brick  or  stone,  which  tell  of  the  idle  ambition  or 
transient  power  of  an  individual ;  for  they  retrace 
for  us  the  condition  of  our  own  ancestors  and  the 
first  history  of  the  world.' 

"  The  knowledge  I  gained  from  these  natives  of 
Africa  enabled  me  to  understand  better  the  ac 
counts  given  by  travellers  in  that  country,  and  to 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  97 

appreciate  their  views.  The  remarkable  coinci 
dences  between  the  customs  of  Africa  and  those  of 
ancient  Europe  have  not  been  overlooked.  Laing 
draws  a  parallel  between  the  customs  of  Sulimana 
and  those  of  ancient  Rome.  Bowdich  has  re 
marked  the  similarity  of  some  of  the  religious  ob 
servances  of  the  Africans  to  those  of  Greece  and 
Italy. 

"  I  have,  indeed,  been  much  impressed  with  the 
resemblance  that  what  we  call  their  superstitions- 
bear  to  those  of  the  imaginative  peoples  whose 
childhood  has  furnished  the  world  with  legends 
that  have  not  yet  ceased  to  charm. 

'  The  fair  humanities  of  old  religion, 
The  power,  the  beauty,  and  the  majesty, 
That  had  their  haunts  in  dale,  or  piny  mountain, 
Or  forest,  by  slow  stream,  or  pebbly  spring,' 

still  live  in  the  faith  of  Africa.  '  Almost  every 
place,'  Denham  says,  '  has  its  charm  or  wonder.' 
The  Africans  have  their  genii,  good  and  bad,  their 
sacred  groves  and  fountains ;  they  have  their  sooth 
sayers  and  sibyls,  their  invulnerable  heroes. 

"  Here  is  a  genuine  African  story  of  recent 
date. 

"  The  Sheikh  of  Bornou  made  war  against  a 
neighboring  state.  One  of  the  great  champions 
of  the  assailed  nation  was  Dummatoon,  who  put  to 
flight  whole  squadrons  with  his  single  arm.  He 


98  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

had  fought  hand  to  hand  with  the  Sheikh  himself, 

O  * 

who  had  hardly  escaped  with  life.  But  Dumma- 
toon's  fate  found  him.  He  was  taken  prisoner  and 
brought  unarmed  into  the  presence  of  his  great 
enemy.  — '  You  are  a  humbler  man  now,  Dum- 
matoon,  than  a  year  ago.'  — '  Does  my  look  say 
so  ?  It  speaks  false.  You  should  see  my  heart.'  — 
4  You  have  done  me  much  harm,'  the  Sheikh  said, 
4  but  promise  me  your  service  and  I  give  you  life.' 
— '  Give  me  death ;  I  have  deserved  it  of  you. 
Give  it  with  your  own  hand,  if  you  dare  to 
strike.'  —  The  Sheikh  made  a  sign  to  his  attend 
ants.  They  dragged  out  the  prisoner,  but  soon 
returned.  Neither  sword  nor  spear  would  pierce 
him;  even  fire-arms  failed.  The  Sheikh  consulted 
his  books.  4  He  is  charmed  against  iron,  fire,  and 
water.  Wood  will  kill  him.'  —  The  slaves  ad 
vanced  upon  Dummatoon  with  their  clubs.  4 1 
see  my  death  coming,'  he  said,  and  offered  no 
more  resistance. 

44  If  the  scene  of  this  story  had  been  laid  in  the 
heroic  or  the  chivalric  age  of  our  world,  would  it 
have  been  found  out  of  place?" 

44  The  most  obsolete  part  of  it  might  be  brought 
nearer  to  us:  witness  the  'frozen'  men  of  Ger 
many." 

44  Yes,  —  the  Austrian  rebel,  Willinger,  might 
furnish  a  parallel  to  Dummatoon.  It  is  related  of 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  99 

him,  that  'the  stroke  of  a  cannon-ball  made  him 
recoil  seven  paces  without  killing  him.' ' 

"  Wallenstein  was  believed  bullet-proof  by  his 
soldiers ;  so  was  Tilly." 

"  The  army  of  Gustavus  Adolphus  was  not  more 
advanced,  if  we  may  judge  by  the  laws  of  their 
leader.  One  of  the  chief  articles  in  his  code,  ac 
cording  to  Harte,  prohibited  the  '  enchanting  of 
the  human  body  so  as  to  render  it  invulnerable.' 
Offenders  were  to  be  strictly  punished  'according 
to  the  laws  of  the  land  and  those  of  Scripture.' ' 

"  Yet  those  times  thought  themselves  enlight 
ened  !  " 

"  Yes,  —  Schiller  makes  Max  Piccolomini  even 
then  regret  the  passing  away  of  the  '  old  fable-be 
ings.'  From  Africa  '  the  charming  race '  has  not 
yet  '  wandered  out.' ' 

"  But  the  superstitions  of  Africa  are  not  all  of 
the  fascinating  or  of  the  heroic  stamp." 

"  No  more  than  those  of  Europe.  Even  in  the 
most  barbarous  customs  of  the  most  barbarous 
tribes  we  are  forced  to  recognize  the  African  re- 

o 

lationship  to  the  nations  from  which  we  derive  our 
civilization,  and  even  to  our  own  ancestors.  When 
we  are  revolted  by  some  tale  of  sanguinary  supersti 
tion,  we  forget  that  the  darkest  rites  of  the  most 
benighted  worship  have  belonged  to  the  early  re 
ligion  of  the  most  favored  countries  of  Europe  and 


100  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

Asia.  At  least,  these  things  take  quite  another  as 
pect  for  us,  when  viewed  as  the  subject  of  anti 
quarian  lore  or  of  primeval  poetry.  If  one  of  our 
missionaries  should  come  upon  an  African  Jephthah 
or  Idomeneus  engaged  in  the  performance  of  his 
vow,  would  the  position  of  the  father  be  deemed 
tragic  or  monstrous  ?  Suppose  the  account  of  the 
osier  giants  and  their  contents  were  found  in  the 
commentaries  of  a  modern  traveller  in  Africa,  in 
stead  of  in  those  of  the  explorer  of  Gaul,  with 
what  a  different  horror  should  we  read  it !  Trans 
fer  the  great  festival  of  Upsala  to  Ashanti  and  call 
it  the  Yam  Custom,  how  the  poetical  fades  and  the 
revolting  deepens !  Would  not  our  imagination 
find  the  selfish  old  king  Aun  quite  at  home  in  Dah 
omey,  obtaining,  by  the  sacrifice  of  his  nine  sons, 
the  privilege  of  adding  the  years  taken  from  their 
lives  to  his  own  ?  Might  not  the  legend  of  '  The 
Two  Dusky  Birds  of  Gwenddolen'  have  been  as 
well  a  Beninish  as  a  British  tradition  ? 

"  When  the  Africans  begin  to  collect  their  floating 
poetry  and  our  literature  is  enriched  with  a  transla 
tion  of  some  Fantee  epic,  we  shall  read,  perhaps,  of 
a  chief  consoling  the  shade  of  his  dead  companion 
in  arms  by  the  solemn  sacrifice  of  twelve  Portu 
guese,  French,  or  English  prisoners  reserved  for 
the  purpose.  Will  the  tenderness  of  feeling  and 
the  beauty  of  imagery  with  which  the  inspired  bard 


KECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  101 

may  have  described  the  grief  of  the  bereavement 
and  the  pomp  of  the  funeral  celebration  leave  us 
fascinated  with  the  chief  actor  in  the  scene  ?  The 
name  of  Achilles  is  still  with  us  the  synonyme  of 
hero  !  " 

"  Indeed,"  I  could  not  but  admit,  "  I  believe  our 
opinion  of  African  refinement  would  not  be  raised, 
if  we  found  that  human  sacrifices  were  not  only  a 
rite  of  their  religion,  but  a  favorite  subject  with 
their  poets.  I  remember  my  old  school-friend 
Virgil  does  not  fear  to  shock  his  countrymen  by 
making  the  pious  JEneas  reserve  eight  captives  to 
be  sacrificed  on  the  funeral  pile  of  Pallas." 

"  His  countrymen  had  no  occasion  to  go  back 
to  their  founder  for  examples  of  these  sacrifices. 
Their  Forum  Boarium  was  there  to  witness  to  the 
baffling  of  a  prophecy  by  a  terrible  mockery.  Hu 
man  sacrifices  form  the  frequent  subject  of  Greek 
and  Italian  bas-reliefs.  These  were,  indeed,  illustra 
tions  of  poems  and  dramas.  Five  of  the  tragedies 
of  Euripides  are  founded  on  this  custom.  Nor  is  it 
strange  that  his  imagination  should  have  been  so 
much  impressed  by  it ;  for  the  place  and  day  of 
his  birth  were  marked  by  a  solemnity  of  this  kind. 
He  must,  in  his  childhood,  have  often  heard,  among 
the  other  details  of  the  Battle  of  Salamis,  the  story 
of  the  royal  captives,  with  their  stately  beauty  and 
their  splendid  dress,  brought  in  at  the  moment  of 


102  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

the  preparatory  sacrifices,  when  instantly  the  flame, 
darting  up  bright  and  clear,  demanded  them,  and  a 
sneeze  on  the  right  confirmed  their  fate !  Greece 
witnessed  this  spectacle,  not  Africa. 

"  The  modern  stage  does  not  entirely  exclude 
from  the  elements  of  the  tragic  this  fearful  recog 
nition  of  the  principle  of  expiation.  Even  the 
musical  drama  ventures  with  an  antique  subject  to 
revive  the  ancient  horror.  In  a  play  which  I  have 
here,  by  a  new  English  dramatist,  the  idea  of  this 
cruel  atonement  reappears,  though  in  a  softened 
form.  The  hero  offers  up  his  life  upon  the  altar  to 
avert  a  curse  from  his  country.  Ought  we  to  be 
very  much  surprised,  since  the  tradition  of  what 
was  once  a  universal  fact  has  not  yet  wholly  died 
out  with  us,  if  there  are  spots  in  Africa  where  the 
custom  itself  has  lingered,  as  it  continued  to  exist 
in  Gaul,  Britain,  and  still  later  in  Scandinavia, 
after  the  more  civilized  countries  of  Europe  had 
rejected  it  ?  " 

"  Eyes  have  we,  yet  we  see  not !  " 
"  The  religious  ceremonies  of  the  Africans,"  Ed 
ward  continued,  "bear,  even  in  detail,  an  extraor 
dinary  resemblance  to  those  of  Greece  and  Italy. 
For  example,  as  the  Romans  sacrificed  white  vic 
tims  to  the  celestial,  and  black  to  the  infernal  gods, 
so  some  nations  of  Africa  offer  white  animals  on 
joyful,  black  on  mournful  occasions.  The  venera- 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  103 

tion  in  which  the  serpent  is  held  by  the  negroes 
of  Africa,  and  its  significance  as  the  emblem  of 
healing,  are  other  coincidences.  Some  customs 
of  modern  Europe  which  have  come  down  from 
a  remote  period  are  in  full  force  in  Africa,  — 
such  as  pilgrimages  to  sacred  shrines  in  order  to 
merit  or  give  thanks  for  divine  favors,  religious 
processions  to  obtain  rain,  and  so  forth.  A  Mora 
vian  missionary  reports  that  certain  African  peo 
ples  offer,  as  we  do,  grace  before  meat :  '  O  God, 
thou  hast  made  this  to  grow  !  '  More  grateful  than 
we,  they  give  thanks  also  before  work :  '  O  God, 
thou  hast  given  me  this  strength ! '  'The  prayer  of 
the  Watje  woman  does  not  differ  much  from  Pope's 
Universal  Prayer,  except  in  being  more  concise : 
4  O  God,  I  know  thee  not,  but  thou  knowest  me ; 
give  me  what  I  need !  ' 

"  Certainly  some  of  the  customs  of  the  Africans 
are  puerile  enough  in  our  eyes :  such  as  their  being 
governed  in  an  important  decision  by  the  flight  of 
a  bird  to  the  right  or  left ;  their  pouring  out  on  the 
ground  a  little  liquor  before  they  drink,  as  an  offer 
ing  to  some  invisible  divinity ;  their  listening  for 
oracles  from  a  cave  or  a  prophetic  tree.  Yet  for  all 
these  follies  we  know  there  are  respectable  pre 
cedents.  So  there  are  for  the  custom  of  offering 
food  to  tutelary  beings  and  to  the  spirits  of  the 
dead,  which  seems  to  us  so  childish  and  to  show 


104  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

such  gross  ideas  of  the  other  world.  I  know  no 
custom  which  has  more  excited  the  pity  and  scorn 
of  travellers  than  this.  Yet  here  the  negro  belief 
is  kept  in  countenance,  not  only  by  the  youthful 
time  of  the  most  honored  races,  but  by  one  of  the 
first  minds  of  an  enlightened  age,  —  by  the  greatest 
poet  who  has  devoted  his  genius  to  the  illustration 
of  our  own  religious  faith.  Adam  invites  Raphael 
timidly  to  the  banquet  that  Eve  has  set  out  for 
them  ;  he  fears  it  may  be 

'Unsavory  food,  perhaps, 
To  spiritual  natures.' 

Raphael  reassures  him  :  — 

'  What  He  gives  — 

Whose  praise  be  ever  sung  —  to  man,  in  part 
Spiritual,  may  of  purest  spirits  be  found 
No  ingrateful  food:  and  food  alike  those  pure 
Intelligential  substances  require, 
As  doth  your  rational;  and  both  contain 
Within  them  every  lower  faculty 
Of  sense,  whereby  they  hear,  see,  smell,  touch,  taste. 

So  down  they  sat, 

And  to  their  viands  fell,  not  seemingly 
The  angel  nor  in  mist,  —  the  common  gloss 
Of  theologians, —  but  with  keen  despatch 
Of  real  hunger.' 

Shall  we  feel  contempt  for  the  African  because  he 
attributes  to  the  spirits  of  his  friends  a  complai 
sance  which  the  sublimest  of  epic  poets  finds  not 
unworthy  of  an  archangel  ?  No,  let  us  not  despise 
these  simple  peoples  too  much.  Their  observances 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  105 

often  symbolize  and  preserve  great  troths,  and 
we  are  often  made  to  feel  that  the  inspiration 
of  cultivated  genius  hardly  informs  more  definite 
ly  than  their  humble  intuition." 

The  solid  German  had,  already  for  the  second 
time  since  our  conversation  began,  passed  by  the 
window  with  a  slow  step.  I  did  not  feel  called 
upon  to  interpret  this  manoeuvre,  and  Edward 
probably  thought,  as  I  did,  that  my  rival  would 
soon  enough  have  everything  his  own  way  again  ; 
for,  after  a  glance  of  hesitation,  he  turned  back  to 
me.  He  gave  me,  in  answer  to  my  questions,  many 
particulars  in  regard  to  the  religious  observances  of 
different  tribes  of  Africans.  I  received  from  him 
afterwards,  in  the  course  of  our  correspondence,  full 
er  information ;  but  this  belongs  to  another  period 
of  our  acquaintance.  I  noted  in  my  journal,  at  that 
time,  only  the  facts  and  illustrations  that  especially 
struck  my  fancy.  I  remember  his  telling  me,  how 
ever,  that,  although  the  Pagan  Africans  believed  in 
a  great  number  of  divinities  of  different  grades,  yet 
the  idea  of  one  God  supreme  over  all  had  been 
found  to  exist  even  among  the  most  barbarous 
tribes. 

"  I  know,"  he  said,  "  there  are  hasty  travellers 
who  deny  this.  I  have  met  with  one  who  asserted 
of  a  certain  tribe  through  whose  territory  he  had 


106  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

passed,  that  'they  had  no  religion  at  all,  and  no 
idea  of  the  existence  of  a  God.'  —  'Do  they  never 
offer  any  kind  of  worship  ? '  some  one  present 
asked.  — '  Oh,  they  pray  when  they  are  in  dis 
tress,  but  they  don't  know  what  they  pray  to.'  — 
This  is  an  example  of  the  rashness  of  superficial 
travellers. 

"  The  fact  is,  that  the  African  is  reserved  in  con 
versation  with  strangers  on  religious  topics ;  his 
awe  of  the  unseen  is  great,  and  he  does  not  dare  to 
treat  these  subjects  with  familiarity.  Park  found 
among  the  negro  people  with  which  he  was  best 
acquainted  a  belief,  not  only  in  a  God,  but  in  a 
future  state  of  rewards  and  punishments,  universal. 
But  he  says  it  is  difficult  to  make  them  converse  on 
these  subjects,  and  that,  m  particular,  when  ques 
tioned  in  regard  to  their  ideas  of  a  future  life,  '  they 
express  themselves  with  reverence,  but  endeavor  to 
shorten  the  discussion.'  I  have  heard  the  same 
thing  from  persons  who  have  been  in  Africa,  and 
their  statements  have  been  confirmed  by  my  own 
experience  of  the  reserve  of  the  native  African 
on  these  subjects." 

From  the  religion  of  the  Africans  I  drew  Colvil 
to  their  manners  and  characteristics. 

"  I  have  perhaps  been  misled  by  such  superficial 
travellers  as  you  speak  of,  or  by  my  own  super 
ficial  reading  of  better  ones;  but  I  have  received 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  107 

an  impression,  that,  among  the  African  tribes,  the 
bond  of  nationality,  and  even  the  ties  of  blood,  are 
weaker  than  they  commonly  are  in  the  early  time 
of  the  superior  races." 

"  I  believe,"  Colvil  answered,  "  the  testimony  of 
the  most  judicious  travellers  will  not  be  found  to 
confirm  this  impression.  Park  says,  emphatically, 
that,  whatever  difference  there  may  be  between  the 
European  and  African  in  features  and  skin,  « there 
is  none  in  the  genuine  sympathies  and  character 
istics  of  our  common  nature.'  How  pleasing  is  the 
account  he  gives  of  the  reception  of  his  blacksmith 
guide,  on  his  return  home  after  an  absence  of  four 
years  I  His  brother  comes  out  to  meet  him,  bring 
ing  a  horse,  that  he  may  enter  his  native  place 
with  the  more  dignity,  and  accompanied  by  a 
minstrel,  who  leads  the  way  into  the  town,  sing 
ing  the  praises  and  welcome  of  the  restored  citi 
zen.  The  townspeople  flock  round  him,  exulting 
and  congratulating ;  but  when  they  approach  his 
home,  all  make  way  for  the  old  blind  mother,  who, 
unable  to  see  her  son,  passes  her  trembling  hands 
over  his  face  and  listens  intently  for  his  voice. 
The  white  man  is  overlooked  ;  it  is  not  until  the 
regained  son  and  brother,  seated  in  the  midst  of 
his  family,  has  given  his  history  in  full  from  the 
day  of  his  departure,  and,  arriving  at  the  place 
where  the  stranger  has  a  part  in  it,  points  him 


108  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

out  to  them,  that  the  attention  of  the  household 
is  directed  to  him.  Then  he  appears  to  them 
like  '  a  being  dropped  from  the  clouds,'  so  un 
conscious  have  they  been  of  his  presence.  Read 
the  account  given  by  Captain  Tuckey,  and  again 
by  Professor  Smith,  of  the  joy  of  the  Congo  father, 
on  recovering  his  lost  son,  stolen  from  him,  under 
disguise  of  friendship,  eleven  years  before,  —  a  joy, 
the  ardor  of  which  proved,  so  says  the  Professor, 
4  that,  even  among  this  people,  Nature  is  awake  to 
tender  emotions.'  Such  remarks  as  this  call  up  a 
sad  smile,  like  the  bull  of  Paul  Third,  which  de 
creed  souls  to  the  American  Indians." 

"  But  is  it  not  true  that  there  are  tribes  in  Africa 
who  sell  their  own  countrymen,  and  even  their  rela 
tives,  into  slavery  ?  " 

"  Is  this  without  a  parallel  among  the  Caucasian 
peoples  ?  Not  to  go  back  to  Joseph's  brethren,  nor 
to  the  Thracians,  who,  Herodotus  tells  us,  sold  their 
own  children,  let  us  look  in  Christian  times  at 
nearer  nations.  Charlemagne  called  the  attention 
of  Pope  Adrian  to  the  sale  of  Italians  by  their 
own  countrymen  to  foreigners,  and  the  Pope  could 
only  answer,  that  he  had  done  everything  in  his 
power  to  prevent  this  traffic,  but  without  success, 
since  it  took  place  under  the  pressure  of  famine. 
Britain,  like  Africa,  once  supplied  foreign  slave- 
markets  ;  she  has  herself  dealt  in  her  own  sons ; 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  109 

and  the  reproach  has  been  brought  against  Chris 
tian  England  as  freely  as  against  heathen  Africa, 
that  the  young  brother  was  not  safe  from  the  ava 
rice  of  the  elder,  nor  the  tender  child  from  the 
parent's.  I  fear  this  baseness  was  not  entirely 
unknown  even  among  the  free,  manly  peoples  of 
Scandinavia,  from  whom  we  are  proud  to  derive 
our  origin.  Not  half  a  century  ago,  a  ballad 
which  records  an  act  of  this  sort  was  still  sung 
on  the  shores  of  Lake  Wetter :  — 

'My  father  and  my  mother,  oh,  they  have  suffered  need! 
They  sold  me  away  for  a  little  bit  of  bread, 
All  into  the  heathenish  country,  there  to  perish ! ' 

"  In  times  of  famine,  men  in  Africa  have  been 
known  to  sell  themselves,  in  order,  with  the  price 
of  their  freedom,  to  provide  for  those  dependent  on 
them ;  parents  have  at  such  times,  perhaps,  even 
sold  their  own  children  into  bondage.  But  it  is  to 
be  remembered  that  the  species  of  serfdom  which 
exists  in  Africa,  among  the  negro  nations,  bears  no 
resemblance  to  slavery  as  we  know  it.  The  Afri 
can  bondman  has  rights  ;  he  is  a  member  of  the 
community,  protected  by  the  laws.  He  is  com 
pletely  disfranchised  only  when  he  passes  from  his 
Pagan  master  to  his  Christian  owner.  In  negro 
Africa  the  master  cannot  sell  his  bondman,  except 
for  crime  of  which  he  shall  have  been  duly  con 
victed  by  public  trial.  Such  is  the  law  of  African 


110  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

slavery,  according  to  Mungo  Park.  Laing  makes 
the  same  statement.  Even  in  Congo  —  which 
seems  to  have  been  almost  more  than  any  other 
part  of  Africa  depraved  and  ruined  by  the  slave- 
trade  —  Tuckey  found  that  the  domestic  slave  was 
not  subject  to  sale.  Captives  taken  in  war,  and 
men  who  have  incurred  slavery  as  a  penalty,  are 
excepted  from  these  privileges ;  but  only  in  their 
own  persons ;  their  children  have  the  rights  of  do 
mestic  bondmen.  The  African  serf  has  generally 
light  work  and  gentle  treatment.  Park  says,  that, 
in  all  labors,  mechanic  or  agricultural,  the  master  is 
seen  working  with  the  bondman,  '  without  any  dis 
tinction  of  superiority.'  As  Murray  sums  it  up : 
6  The  slavery  of  African  to  African  is  compara 
tively  mild.  The  labor  required  in  this  state  of 
society  is  not  such  as  to  impose  suffering  or  ex 
haustion  ;  the  slave  sits  on  the  same  mat  with  his 
master,  eats  out  of  the  same  dish,  and  talks  with 
him  as  with  an  equal.*  It  is  the  foreign  trade  in 
men  that  has  introduced  those  elements  of  horror 
which  make  us  shudder  at  the  words,  African 
Slavery.  The  continual  wars  which  desolate  the 
country,  and  which  have  destroyed  or  carried  back 
into  barbarism  many  flourishing,  nations  that  had 
made  great  advances  in  the  arts  of  cultivated  life, 
are  almost  always  undertaken  to  supply  this  de 
mand  from  without.  The  terror  with  which  the 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  Ill 

knowledge  of  their  destination  fills  the  poor  cap 
tives  taken  in  war  or  kidnapped,  leading  them  to 
make  constant  attempts  at  escape,  has  occasioned  a 
fearful  severity  on  the  part  of  the  slave-dealers. 
The  poor  victims  are  often  forced  to  march  heavily 
ironed.  The  horrors  of  the  inland  passage  are 
sometimes  almost  equal  to  those  of  the  slave-ship." 

"  And  who  is  responsible  for  this  ?  "  I  could  not 
help  exclaiming ;  "  this  foreign  trade  is  not  an 
African  invention." 

"  No ;  the  cupidity  of  the  white  races  introduced 
and  sustains  it.  This  trade  has  dried  up  the 
sources  of  honorable  commerce ;  wherever  it  has 
established  itself,  it  has  stifled  the  native  virtues 
of  the  African  and  stimulated  his  baser  propensi 
ties,  —  developing,  where  its  influences  are  concen 
trated,  a  frightful  depravity." 

"  And  we  hear  the  report  of  this,  and  judge  the 
negro  worthy  of  no  better  fate  than  he  finds !  " 

"  The  Christian  tempter  decrees  the  Pagan  man- 
seller  the  portion  which  the  weak  tool  receives  from 
the  powerful  villain  who  takes  the  profit  of  a  mis 
deed  and  leaves  to  his  accomplice  the  opprobrium 
and  the  penalty. 

"It  is  remarkable  that  those  unfortunate  coun 
tries  whose  debasement  and  sanguinary  superstitions 
have  made  the  name  of  Africa  a  byword  lie  within 
the  limits  of  the  Guinea  of  old  time,  whose  myth- 


112  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

ical  fame  lured  Henry  of  Portugal,  and  where  his 
countrymen  first  planted  the  traffic  which  was  to 
become  Africa's  curse — and  ours.  Congo,  Cala 
bar,  are  equally  notorious  as  the  marts  of  this  trade 
and  as  the  scenes  of  revolting  rites ;  Ashanti  is 
near  the  coast  which  first  realized  the  golden  dreams 
of  the  Portuguese  ;  Dahomey  lies  within  that  which 
bears  the  ill-omened  name  of  the  Slave-Coast.  In 
these  countries  a  barbarous  despotism  has  taken  the 
place  of  the  milder  governments  of  the  interior  and 
less  corrupted  regions.  Parts  of  the  eastern  coast 
and  the  country  lying  along  the  Zambesi  have  suf 
fered  deeply  from  the  same  causes.  But  even  in 
the  most  fallen  of  these  doomed  countries  the  near 
observer  finds  the  remains  of  the  virtues  of  a  better 
time,  and  the  magnanimity  which  marks  the  ne 
gro  character  often  shines  out  among  the  gloomy 
traits." 

"  Are  the  negroes  themselves  sensible  of  the  evils 
this  trade  brings  upon  them?  " 

"  The  travellers  who  have  taken  the  most  pains 
to  ascertain  the  feeling  of  Africa  on  this  subject 
affirm  that  it  is  disapproved  by  the  people  at  large, 
—  though  it  may  be  regarded  with  indifference  by 
those  who  are  thoroughly  debased  by  it.  Its  sup 
pression  is  opposed  by  the  kings  and  chiefs  who  de 
rive  a  revenue  from  it,  and  by  a  few  rich  men  who 
have  fattened  on  it.  The  more  enlightened  of  the 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  113 

rulers,  however,  are  already  sensible  of  the  evils  it 
entails  on  their  people,  and  are  desirous  to  see  an 
honest  and  humane  trade  take  its  place.  Tuckey 
reported  in  1816  that  even  in  Congo  the  people  at 
large  '  assuredly  desire  the  abolition  of  this  trade.' 
He  says  that  every  man  he  conversed  with  told  him, 
that,  if  the  white  men  did  not  come  for  slaves,  the 
practice  of  kidnapping  would  cease.  Denham  ex 
presses  his  belief  that  this  traffic  is  seen  with  '  a  dis 
gust  which  habit  cannot  conquer,'  by  the  people 
of  Bornu,  whither  great  numbers  of  slaves  are 
brought  to  be  delivered  up  to  the  foreign  traders, 
who  will  take  nothing  else  in  exchange  for  their 
wares.  The  country  he  explored  was  disturbed  by 
continual  incursions  made  by  Mahometan  tribes  on 
their  Pagan  neighbors.  They  abstained  from  en 
slaving  those  who  had  been  converted  to  their  own 
faith :  4  Believers,'  they  say,  '  do  not  bind  each 
other.'  The  conquering  state  often  imposes  a 
yearly  tribute  of  slaves  on  the  subjected  one, 
which,  to  spare  its  own  people,  again  makes  in 
roads  upon  a  neighbor;  thus  the  miseries  of  the 
slave-trade  are  carried  far  inward,  to  nations  which 
have  had  no  part  in  its  crimes. 

"  I  knew,  a  few  years  ago,  an  African  from  the 

interior,  who  had  been  carried  off  in  a  foray  of  this 

sort,  made  by  a  people  who  were  not   at   enmity 

with  his  own.     His  love  for  his  country  was  in- 

8 


114  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

tense.  He  described  it  to  me  as  a  perfect  Paradise. 
The  accounts  he  gave  me  of  the  modes  of  tillage 
in  use  there,  of  the  fields  waving  with  grain,  the 
groves  of  fruit-trees,  the  comfortable  houses,  the 
gentle  manners  of  the  people,  proved  a  state  of 
things  far  removed  from  barbarism.  He  died  in 
the  belief,  that,  as  soon  as  his  soul  left  its  captive 
body,  it  would  be  born  again  in  his  own  land." 

"  Had  he  not  been  converted  ?  " 

"  He  was  a  fervent  believer  in  the  life  and  death 
of  Christ  and  in  his  doctrines.  But  I  do  not  know 
whether  he  could  have  been' accepted  as  an  ortho 
dox  convert ;  for,  as  is  usual  with  native  Africans, 
he  retained  many  of  his  early  religious  ideas,  which, 
indeed,  he  used  to  defend  very  skilfully  by  argu 
ments  drawn  from  Scripture.  He  believed  in  tu 
telary  spirits,  and  in  the  power  of  evil  demons  to 
tempt  and  injure.  He  contended  that  this  faith 
was  quite  consistent  with  the  Christian  teaching, 
as  also  his  belief  that  the  soul  could  return  to  earth. 
He  thought  the  permission  to  see  his  home  again 
had  been  accorded  to  him  as  a  special  grace,  in 
compensation  for  his  misfortunes ;  for,  he  said,  he 
could  not  enjoy  heaven  until  this  great  longing  of 
his  soul  had  been  satisfied.  He  affirmed  that  his 
people  were  already  in  possession  of  some  of  the 
great  truths  of  Christianity ;  that  they  practised  the 
laws  of  love  and  forgiveness ;  but  they  did  not 


RECORD  OF  A1ST  OBSCURE  MAN.  115 

know  who  had  brought  these  to  earth,  nor  whom 
they  ought  to  thank  for  them.  He  was  to  give 
them  a  knowledge  of  their  Benefactor.  This 
man's  health  had  been  broken  by  his  sufferings  in 
the  slave-ship  and  by  severe  usage  after  he  left  it. 
Fortunately,  he  passed  into  the  hands  of  a  kind 
master  before  he  had  suffered  the  worst  injuries  that 
slavery  inflicts.  He  had  been  in  the  power  of  those 
who  could  kill  the  body,  but  they  had  not  destroyed 
his  soul.  He  retained  his  affectionate  nature,  and 
was  simple  and  truthful.  But  he  was  very  imagi 
native,  and  his  accounts  of  distant  scenes  and  oc 
currences  may  have  been  colored  and  enriched 
without  his  being  conscious  of  it." 

"  It  is  unfortunate,"  I  said,  "  that,  in  colonies 
established  in  Africa  for  the  benefit  of  the  black 
race,  men  whose  characters  have  been  enfeebled,  if 
not  perverted,  by  servitude,  must,  at  least  in  the 
beginning,  make  so  large  an  element.  I  once  knew 
a  man,  a  very  good  man  in  his  way,  who  had 
formed  a  theory  in  regard  to  the  incapacity  and 
irredeemable  worthlessness  of  negroes  from  experi 
ences  he  had  had  in  some  settlement,  I  forget  now 
what  one,  near  the  coast.  He  said  of  the  blacks 
composing  it,  that  they  were  all  thieves  and  liars, 
—  destitute,  in  fact,  of  all  moral  principle  ;  and  this, 
4  although  they  had  all  been  slaves,  and  had  thus  en 
joyed  the  advantages  of  discipline  and  training.' ' 


116  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

"  And  no  doubt  this  man  passed  for  an  author 
ity,  as  one  who  had  seen  the  blacks  in  their  own 
country." 

"Yes,  —  his  opinions  were  considered  conclusive 
in  a  large  circle.  When  I  questioned  him  a  little, 
—  for  I  was  not  one  of  the  best-convinced,  —  he 
admitted  that  these  same  people  were  kind  and  hos 
pitable,  and  that  they  'were  honest  enough  among 
themselves.' ': 

"  The  principle  of  having  one  code  for  them 
selves  and  another  for  their  dealings  with  aliens 
has  not  only  been  learned  by  the  Africans  in  their 
enslavement,  it  was  very  early  taught  them  by  the 
foreign  traders.  Purchas  gives,  in  his  '  Pilgrims,' 
an  account  of  the  Gold  and  Grain  Coasts  in  1601, 
written  by  a  Dutch  trader.  He  says  of  the  na 
tives,  — '  At  first,  they  were  very  simple  in  their 
dealings,  and  trusted  the  Netherlander  very  much ; 
at  which  we  wondered.  For  they  thought  that 
white  men  were  gods  and  would  not  deceive  them.' 
So,  he  relates  very  coolly,  cwe  used  to  deceive 
them,  selling  them  rotten  cloth  and  short  meas 
ure,  patched  basins,  and  knives  so  rusty  that  they 
could  not  be  drawn  without  breaking,  and  such 
like  wares.'  The  golden  harvest  did  not  last  long, 
however.  '  For  now,'  he  presently  says,  4  they 
have  such  skill  in  our  wares  that  they  almost  go 
beyond  us.'  The  poor  natives  learned  yet  other 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  117 

lessons.  By  the  time  our  Netherlander  left  their 
country,  he  had  no  better  opinion  of  them  than 
your  friend  had  of  the  colony  of  liberated  slaves. 
'  For  stealing,'  he  says,  '  of  all  the  nations  in  the 
world,  they  have  not  their  masters.'  He  finds 
them  '  full  of  untruth,'  and  so  shameless  that  they 
are  only  proud  of  deceiving  and  cheating  him  and 
his  comrades.  '  For,'  he  says,  '  they  think  us  crafty 
men,  and  that  they  show  themselves  the  craftier 
when  they  take  us  in.'  But  he,  too,  adds,  — 
4  They  think  it  shame  to  steal  from  each  other, 
and  what  promises  they  make  among  themselves 
they  keep  well.'  Honest  Purchas  furnishes  the  Af 
rican  voyages  with  marginal  notes  such  as  these :  — 
4  White  devils  can  hardly  make  black  saints  '  :  Let 
not  heathens  be  made  worse  by  Christians,  which, 
alas  !  is  now  common  in  all  remote  parts.' ' 

"  I  am  afraid  these  notes  are  hardly  yet  ob 
solete." 

"  Two  hundred  years  after  the  Netherlander 's 
voyage,  this  system  of  bad  faith  on  the  part  of  Euro 
peans  was  found  in  full  force  in  its  darkest  form,  — 
and  yet  the  natives  not  wholly  cured  of  their  con 
fidence  in  the  white  men !  Bowdich  tells  us,  that, 
when  African  chiefs,  desirous  of  giving  their  sons 
a  Christian  education,  have  intrusted  them  to  Eng 
lish  captains  who  promised  to  take  them  to  Eng 
land  for  this  purpose,  these  children  'have  invari- 


118  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

ably  been  sold  as  slaves '  !  The  young  man  I 
spoke  of  just  now,  whom  Tuckey  restored  to  his 
father,  '  a  prince  of  the  blood,'  in  Congo,  had 
been  thus  confided  to  a  Liverpool  captain,  who 
engaged  to  take  him  to  England  and  have  him  in 
structed,  but  who  sold  him  as  a  slave  at  St.  Kitt's." 

"  And  I  have  heard  the  distrust  of  the  negroes 
of  Africa,  and  their  slowness  to  believe  that  the 
Christian  missionaries  had  come  among  them  sole 
ly  to  benefit  them,  attributed  to  their  own  brutal 
selfishness,  which  incapacitated  them  even  for  con 
ceiving  of  disinterested  kindness  !  " 

"  The  humanity  and  gentleness  of  the  negroes 
are  proved  —  if  by  nothing  else  —  by  the  security 
with  which  the  white  man  can  still  travel  among 
them  and  live  with  them,  after  all  the  evils  he  has 
brought  upon  their  country,  and  the  daily  instances 
of  perfidy  and  depravity  he  is  exhibiting  there. 
That  they  do  not  give  their  confidence  to  any  in 
dividual  of  this  race,  until  after  a  long  experience, 
shows  only  that  they  are  not  so  wanting  in  judg 
ment  and  discretion  as  has  been  pretended. 

"  Some  of  the  coarser  misrepresentations,"  Col- 
vil  continued,  "  and  tales  of  African  horror,  spread 
by  rash  or  wonder-loving  voyagers,  have  been 
fully  discredited  by  more  sober  and  judicious  ex 
plorers  :  as,  for  example,  the  stories  of  cannibal 
ism,  which  would  appear  to  rest  on  the  same 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  119 

authority  as  the  accounts  of  tribes  of  men  with 
four  eyes,  or  with  tails,  or  horns.  Tuckey  and  his 
associates,  who  passed  through  regions  rife  with 
rumors  of  cannibalism,  saw  appearances  which,  if 
pains  had  not  been  taken  to  obtain  an  explanation, 
would  have  confirmed  these  reports,  wholly  with 
out  foundation,  as  it  afterwards  appeared.  In  the 
General  Observations  appended  to  his  Narrative, 
which  sum  up  the  experiences  and  results  of  the 
expedition,  the  conviction  is  expressed  that  the 
'  many  idle  stories  reported  by  the  Capuchin  and 
other  missionaries  to  Congo,  of  the  Giagas  and 
Anzicas,  their  neighbors,  delighting  in  human 
flesh,  had  no  other  foundation  than  their  fears 
worked  upon  by  the  stories  of  the  neighboring 
tribes.'  " 

"  This  reminds  me  that  I  once  heard  a  shrewd 
sea-captain  say,  that  missionaries  were  somewhat 
prone  to  believe  in  the  existence  of  these  atrocities 
among  the  unconverted.  Perhaps  they  feel  that  it 
gives  more  importance  to  their  work." 

"  If  so,  I  think  it  is  a  mistaken  view.  One  of 
the  strongest  reasons  for  carrying  the  blessings  of 
our  religion  into  Africa  is  that  it  will  come  to  a 
people  ready  and  waiting  to  receive  it." 

"  I  should  think  that  there  was  little  temptation 
to  cannibalism  in  a  country  like  Africa,  where 
food  is  obtained,  they  say,  with  so  little  trouble." 


120  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

"  The  people,  too,  use  very  little  animal  food. 
The  uncorrupted  African  is  sober  in  his  diet. 

"  But  do  you  know,  that,  in  some  parts  of  Afri 
ca,  the  blacks  believe  the  whites  to  be  a  man-eating 
race  ?  And  really  with  more  reason  than  we  have 
for  thinking  them  so ;  for  they  cannot  otherwise 
account  for  the  immense  consumption  of  human 
merchandise.  The  terror  of  the  poor  kidnapped 
creatures  is  carried  to  extremity  by  the  thought 
that  they  are  to  go  across  the  water  to  be  cooked 
and  eaten.  c  It  is  these  white  Christians  with  blue 
eyes,  like  the  hyena's,  that  eat  the  blacks,  when 
they  have  them  out  of  their  own  country.'  This 
pleasant  account  of  himself  and  his  like  an  English 
traveller  heard  given  by  an  old  woman  in  the  in 
terior  of  Africa.  Clapperton  found  that  even  at 
Mourzuk  reports  of  cannibalism  were  circulated 
in  regard  to  him  and  his  party.  'But,'  he  says, 
'  when  we  were  better  known,  the  prejudice  wore 
off.' " 

"  When  the  Africans  are  better  known,  perhaps 
our  prejudices  may  wear  off,  too." 

"  Clapperton  had  the  good  sense  to  infer  that 
similar  stories  told  of  the  people  of  Yacoba  might 
be  4  only  idle  Arab  tales.'  Robertson,  who  lived 
many  years  in  Africa,  declares  that  the  stories  of 
cannibalism  are  4  ridiculous.'  He  says,  speaking  of 
reports  of  this  sort  in  regard  to  the  people  of  Sonio, 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  121 

—  'A  more  preposterous  or  foolish  opinion  could  not 
be  conceived.'  A  trader  at  Bonny  once  told  him 
so  plausible  a  story  about  the  Quas  eating  those  that 
fell  into  their  power,  that  he  was  inclined  to  believe 
it;  but  he  was  afterwards  convinced  that  there 
was  no  truth  in  it.  The  natives  often  give  stran 
gers  a  fearful  account  of  the  dangers  of  the  interior 
in  order  to  deter  them  from  penetrating  into  the 
country.  Robertson  thinks  the  Portuguese  have 
propagated  these  tales  of  horror  in  regard  to  regions 
from  which  they  drew  profit,  to  prevent  other  for 
eigners  from  interfering  with  them.  c  But,'  he  says, 
'  from  their  not  having  been  devoured  themselves,  it 
would  seem  other  food  is  plentiful.' ' 

"  The  pleasure  of  telling  wonderful  stories,  with 
so  little  chance  of  contradiction,  has  probably  been 
motive  enough  for  many  a  Sindbad." 

"  One  Andrew  Battell,  who  was   quite  an   au 
thority  in  his  time,  seems  to  have  indulged  largely 
in  this  amusement.     His  marvellous  relations,  tran 
scribed  by  one  book-maker  after  another,  still  find 
their  way  into  compilations  upon  Africa. 

"  But,  even  where  there  is  candor  and  good  judg 
ment,  we  must  take  for  granted  the  probability  of 
much  misconception  on  the  part  of  the  foreign  ob 
server.  The  best  travellers  in  Africa  are  English 
and  French.  Now,  when  we  see  what  droll  mis 
takes  Frenchmen  fall  into,  when  writing  on  English 


122  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

manners,  and  that  the  English  show  an  equal  in 
capacity  for  understanding  and  describing  theirs, 
how  can  we  help  asking  ourselves  whether  men  of 
either  of  these  nations  are  likely  to  judge  correctly 
peoples  of  a  widely  different  family,  with  whom 
they  can  hold  only  the  most  limited  and  barren 
communication  by  signs,  or  by  interpreters  who 
have  often  an  imperfect  knowledge  of  both  the 
languages  they  try  to  translate  ? 

"  See  what  prejudice  could  do,  even  in  merry 
England,  with  a  warm-hearted,  quick-witted  man, 
who  was  hardly  a  foreigner  there,  —  for  the  lan 
guage  of  the  country  was  his  own.  Curran,  in  a 
letter  to  a  friend,  giving  an  account  of  a  journey 
to  Windsor,  declares  his  belief  that  the  'English 
peasant  is  very  little  better  than  a  Hottentot.'  '  In 
every  stupid  face  you  meet,'  he  says,  'you  may 
read  more  than  you  ever  conceived  of  an  English 
boor,  haughty,  ignorant,  unsociable,  credulous,  un 
accommodating.'  Would  it  be  possible  to  describe 
a  more  disagreeable  savage?" 

"  What  errors  English  travellers  in  this  country 
fall  into,  though  they  speak  our  language,  and  their 
customs  are  similar  to  ours !  How  few,  even  of 
those  who  are  above  the  imputation  of  unfairness, 
are  accurate  in  their  statements,  to  say  nothing  of 
their  inferences !  " 

"  Fewer  still  know  how  to  approve  and  blame  in 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  123 

the  right  place.  Englishmen,  in  general,  respect 
us  when  we  entertain  the  same  follies  they  do ;  but 
are  as  severe  on  us  for  holding  to  those  they  have 
dropped  as  for  shaking  off  those  they  still  cling  to. 
But  all  men  are  prone  to  judge  the  manners  of 
other  countries  by  the  standard  of  their  own,  and 
the  civilized  world  views  from  its  own  stand-point 
that  which  it  calls  savage.  We  find  the  Africans 
barbarians,  wherever  their  customs  differ  from  ours ; 
but  they  are  on  the  road  to  civilization,  when  their 
nonsense  suits  our  nonsense.  It  is  quite  in  order, 
for  example,  that  they  should  bring  the  exhilara 
tion  of  music  to  beguile  the  fatigue  of  a  warlike 
march,  and  to  strengthen  the  arm  for  devastation 
and  murder;  but  when  we  find  that  the  African 
invigorates  in  the  same  manner  the  nerves  and 
muscles  of  the  peaceful  husbandman,  we  pity  the 
poor,  ignorant  creature.  Sow  and  reap  to  music ! 
what  a  lazy  way  of  going  on !  " 

"  Yet  that  little  remnant  of  a  golden  age  in 
Europe,  the  vintage-feast,  we  find  poetical." 

"  Upon  authority.  And  then  the  peasants  of 
Europe  are  not  negroes." 

"  I  should  not  be  sorry,  if  music  with  us  made  as 
necessary  a  part  of  daily  life  as  it  seems  to  be  in 
Africa." 

"  When  it  does,  we  shall  admire  ourselves  very 
much  for  it,  no  doubt.  In  the  mean  time,  our 


124  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

restricted  enjoyment  of  it  is  a  part  of  our  supe 
riority. 

"  An  English  Chief- Justice  of  the  fifteenth  cen 
tury  states,  with  evident  gratification  to  his  na 
tional  pride,  that  there  are  more  men  hung  in  Eng 
land  for  crimes  of  violence  in  three  years  than  in 
France  in  seven.  He  finds  here  a  proof  of  the 
superior  courage  of  his  countrymen  :  — '  There  are 
few  Frenchmen  hung  for  robbery ;  for  they  have  no 
hearts  for  so  terrible  a  deed.'  '  In  England,'  he 
says,  '  it  has  often  been  seen  that  three  or  four 
thieves  have  set  upon  seven  or  eight  true  men  and 
have  robbed  them  all ;  whereas  in  France  seven  or 
eight  thieves  are  not  bold  enough  to  rob  three  or 
four  true  men.'  A  Frenchman  of  the  time,  ac 
cepting  the  fact,  would  possibly  have  accounted  for 
it  by  the  valor  of  the  honest  men  of  France,  rather 
than  by  the  cowardice  of  her  thieves.  If  the  Afri 
cans  could  hear  the  view  taken  by  foreigners  of 
some  of  their  customs  or  of  some  points  in  their 
character,  they  would  perhaps  bring  forward  a 
plausible  defence." 

"  Take  their  indolence,  for  example,"  I  sug 
gested. 

"  Might  they  not  say,  —  It  is  our  moderation, 
our  humanity,  that  keep  us  from  wearing  out  our 
lives,  or  driving  others  through  theirs,  in  unceas 
ing  toil  ?  The  never-satisfied  avidity  of  the  whites, 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.       125 

through  which  they  lose  sight  of  the  end  in  the 
means,  makes  our  reasonable,  cheerful  industry 
look  to  them  like  idleness. 

"Might  they  not  say,  —  as,  indeed,  Mungo  Park 
has  said  for  them,  —  that  a  people  cannot  be  called 
indolent  whose  wants  are  supplied  by  its  own  exer 
tions  ?  They  might  perhaps  go  farther,  and  say 
that  they  show  more  respect  for  labor  than  we  do ; 
for  they  love  it,  they  enjoy  it,  they  fete  it.  With 
them,  sowing-time  is  a  time  of  festival ;  the  harvest, 
again,  is  the  season  of  '  an  infinity  of  rejoicings.' 
The  chief  of  the  village  comes  out  at  the  head  of 
the  workmen,  attended  by  a  band  of  minstrels,  who 
make  '  the  air  resound  with  their  songs.' 

"  If  the  scene  Laing  saw  at  Falaba  had  been 
described  by  some  old  Greek  poet,  what  a  beautiful 
picture  of  primitive  manners  we  should  find  it! 
The  inhabitants  of  Falaba  owe  the  king  three  days' 
labor  in  the  year,  —  one  to  sow  his  rice,  one  to 
weed,  and  one  to  reap  it.  It  was  the  spring  festi 
val  that  Laing  saw.  The  king  appeared  attended 
by  his  band  of  minstrels  to  encourage  the  work 
men.  The  performances  began  with  a  discourse 
by  the  chief  orator.  In  less  than  a  quarter  of 
an  hour  after  it  was  concluded,  the  men  were 
arranged  in  order  of  work  and  with  a  method 

O 

which  Laing  found  truly  astonishing.  They  were 
drawn  up  in  two  lines :  the  first,  five  hundred  per- 


126  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

sons,  scattered  the  seed;  the  second,  about  two 
thousand,  covered  it.  4  They  advanced,'  he  says, 
4  regularly,  and  with  such  rapidity  that  the  work 
appeared  more  like  magic  than  a  human  perform 
ance.'  Their  labors  were  accompanied  by  the 
music  of  the  minstrels,  '  without  whose  presence 
and  cheering  song,'  as  Laing  says,  4  nothing  is  ef 
fected  in  work,  festivity,  or  war.' 

44  Are  those  African  tribes  that  are  renowned  for 
their  music  as  industrious  as  the  others  ?  " 

44  It  is  probable  that  the  musicians  themselves  are 
not  skilful  in  any  art  but  their  own.  But  I  have 
not  observed  any  connection  between  the  African's 
love  of  music  and  his  supposed  indolence.  The 
Timanis,  who,  from  their  position  near  the  mouth 
of  a  large  river,  have  been  so  depraved  by  the 
slave-trade  that  the  habit  of  honest  industry  has 
almost  died  out  among  them,  seem  to  have  lost 
in  an  equal  degree  the  love  of  genial  recreation. 
Laing  passed  through  their  country  on  his  way 
into  the  interior.  He  speaks  often  of  their  sor 
cerers,  but  says  nothing  of  minstrels.  They  held 
no  festivals  in  honor  of  the  stranger,  gave  him  no 
serenades,  and  an  air  of  distrust  made  their  limit 
ed  hospitality  yet  more  ungracious.  But  when  he 
reached  the  country  of  the  Kurankos,  a  people  a 
degree  higher  in  manners  and  in  industry,  he 
found  the  barbarian  graces  revive.  In  every 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.       127 

town   he   enters   the   stranger    receives   a   musical 
reception." 

"  What  was  the  character  of  this  music  ?  " 
"  At  first,  rude  enough.  The  traveller  would 
have  preferred  a  quiet  night's  rest  to  the  noisy  sere 
nade  they  gave  him  at  Kulufa,  the  first  important 
Kuranko  town  he  entered.  At  Simera,  his  next 
stopping-place,  the  song  of  welcome  was  chanted  to 
a  very  rude  instrument,  a  sort  of  violin,  having  but 
one  string  of  twisted  horse-hair ;  yet  the  performer 
4  contrived  to  produce  a  pleasing  harmony.'  Laing 
heard  no  music,  however,  captivating  to  a  Euro 
pean  ear,  until  he  reached  Kamato,  the  last  Kuran 
ko  town  of  importance  that  he  passed  through  :  here 
he  heard  '  instruments  skilfully  handled,  that  sent 
forth  most  melodious  sounds.'  He  arrived  at  a 
time  of  mourning.  The  people  were  lamenting  the 
death  of  their  chief.  The  crying  and  wailing  con 
tinued  through  the  night ;  but  at  daybreak  music 
took  their  place.  '  The  deep  tones  of  a  large  bala- 
fu  resounded  through  the  morning-air  in  a  manner 
truly  solemn.'  'I  awoke  early,'  he  says,  'and  lay 
listening  for  upwards  of  an  hour  with  pleasure  to 
the  music,  which  rang  in  my  ears  like  magic.'  The 
singers  on  this  occasion  were  from  Sangara,  which 
lies  yet  farther  east  than  the  country  of  the  Sulimas, 
which  Laing  entered  on  leaving  the  Kurankos. 
Here  he  found  himself  in  a  land  of  music.  In  the 


128  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAX. 

first  Sulima  town  he  entered,  the  inhabitants  made 
a  great  feast  in  his  honor,  ending  with  a  dance  to 
4  the  sweet  music  of  the  balafu.'  The  airs,  he  says, 
were  '  soft  and  wild,'  and  awakened  in  him  4  so 
strong  a  remembrance  of  early  days,'  that  he  was 
almost  ready  himself  to  4  join  the  merry  throng.' ' 

44  4  Remembrance  of  early  days'  ?  Then  the  soft, 
wild  airs  of  this  African  people  must  have  recalled 
to  Laing  the  melodies  of  Scotland  !  " 

44  Perhaps  some  of  the  beautiful  airs  which  the 
Africans  have  given  to  our  country  were  first 
heard  in  Sulimana  or  Sangara.  As  Laing  passed 
on  through  the  Sulima  country,  deputations  from 
the  towns  came  out  to  meet  him,  always  attended 
by  a  band  of  music.  Even  a  slave-town,  which  he 
passed  through  just  before  arriving  at  the  Sulima 
capital,  did  not  neglect  this  refined  courtesy.  The 
headman  —  himself  a  slave  —  sent  out  a  band  of 
music  and  fifty  armed  men  to  escort  the  'king's 
stranger '  into  his  town.  The  people  of  this  town 
vied  with  each  other  in  acts  of  kindness.  The 
headman,  whom  Laing  describes  as  4  a  most  re 
spectable,  venerable-looking  old  man,'  received 
him  warmly,  and  entertained  him  with  great  hos 
pitality.  Laing  was  glad  to  rest  for  a  day  in  his 
town.  The  music  that  Laing  heard  among  the 
Sulimas  seems  to  have  been  all  of  an  agreeable 
character,  except  the  warlike  music  during  a  kind 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  129 

of  sham-fight,  and  the  terrific  chorus  to  a  war- 
song.  He  found  the  people  of  this  musical  land 
more  skilled  in  agriculture  than  those  of  the  other 
countries  he  had  passed  through.  He  saw  here 
large  plantations  of  rice ;  he  was  struck  by  the 
regularity  and  beauty  of  the  alternate  beds  of  corn 
and  cassada,  by  the  clean  appearance  of  the  ground, 
and  the  care  taken  to  keep  it  free  from  weeds.  In 
the  rich  pastures  large  flocks  of  sheep  and  herds  of 
oxen  were  grazing." 

"  How  far  is  this  country  from  the  coast  ?  " 

44  The  capital  of  the  Sulimas  is  about  two  hun 
dred  miles  east  from  the  colony  of  Sierra  Leone. 
Laing  was  the  first  white  man  who  appeared  in 
those  regions." 

"  These  people  had,  then,  gained  nothing  from 
civilized  instructors  ?  " 

"  I  should  rather  say  they  had  not  lost  every^ 
thing  through  civilized  betrayers.  They  had  suf 
fered  much  from  the  effects  of  the  slave-trade, 
though  not  in  an  equal  degree  with  those  in  direct 
communication  with  the  great  slave-marts  near  the 
coast.  The  people  of  Sangara,  which  lies  beyond 
Sulimana,  seem  to  be  as  superior  to  the  Sulimas  in 
skill  and  industry  as  the  Sulimas  to  the  Kurankos, 
or  these  again  to  the  Timanis.  It  is  not  in  morals 
alone  that  the  people  in  the  neighborhood  of  for 
eign  settlements  in  Africa  are,  as  Robertson  says 


130  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

of  those  on  the  Gold  Coast,  in  'a  worse  condi 
tion  than  before  they  ever  saw  the  face  of  a  Eu 
ropean.' 

"  There  are  many  indications  that  Africa  has 
been  arrested  in  her  social  development,  —  that  the 
finer  virtues  and  the  higher  forms  of  industry  have 
been  blighted  in  their  expansion  by  the  contact  of 
our  selfish  civilization.  It  is  a  great  debt  that  must 
be  paid,  —  that  will  be  paid,  I  trust." 

It  was  Mrs.  Colvil's  low,  clear  voice  that  broke 
the  silence  in  which  we  had  been  sitting  for  some 
minutes :  — 

"  Do  you  remember  that  African  lyre  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Edward ;  and  then,  in  answer  to  my 
inquiring  look,  continued  :  — 

"  We  met  in  New  York,  many  years  ago,  when 
we  were  on  our  way  from  our  old  home  to  this 
place,  a  man  who  had  lived  several  years  in  Af 
rica.  He  had  brought  back  with  him  some  speci 
mens  of  native  art,  —  among  others,  a  musical  in 
strument  which  should  have  been  worth  to  its 
inventor  the  fame  of  Terpander.  I  asked  the 
owner  whether  this  instrument  were  really  a  na 
tive  invention,  and  whether  it  was  not  probable 
that  some  hints  had  been  given  by  Europeans. 
He  assured  me  that  it  came  from  a  'very  sav 
age'  tribe  in  the  interior,  who  had  never  seen  a 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  131 

white  man;  and  added,  with  a  smile  of  conde 
scension  for  my  boyish  simplicity,  — '  I  don't 
think  there  have  been  many  harps  carried  out 
to  Africa;  we  don't  go  there  to  teach  music.' 
The  answer  fell  cold  on  my  heart.  It  has  often 
come  back  to  me,  when  I  have  been  reading  ac 
counts  of  Christian  dealing  in  Africa.  And  here, 
when  I  have  seen  in  this  orphan  race  the  strug 
gling  of  undeveloped  capacities  or  the  gleams  of 
undirected  genius,  I  have  heard,  in  the  tones  of 
that  careless  voice,  the  light  rebuke,  —  We  did 
not  bring  them  here  to  teach  them." 

"  One  question  more." 

Edward's  thoughtful  look  brightened,  as  if  with  a 
pleased  surprise,  at  my  curiosity  about  a  subject 
which,  I  now  saw,  must  have  interested  him  long 
and  deeply.  It  was  not  often,  probably,  that  he 
found  a  sympathizer. 

"  One  question  more  :  The  women  of  Africa,  — 
is  not  their  condition  abject  even  among  the  supe 
rior  tribes  ?  " 

"  The  life  of  the  women  is  far  more  laborious 
than  that  of  the  men :  they  share  in  the  duties  of 
agriculture ;  the  preparation  of  food  is  with  them 
an  elaborate  process ;  they  are  reported  to  be  very 
exact,  tidy  housekeepers,  and  to  take  as  much 
pleasure  in  a  clean  floor  and  shining  pans  as 
old-fashioned  Dutch  housewives.  Whatever  may 


132  RECORD   OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

be  thought  of  the  industry  of  the  men,  the  women 
of  Africa  are  certainly  not  to  be  reproached  with  a 
want  of  it.  But  when  the  condition  of  women  in 
what  we  call  barbarous  countries  is  under  discus 
sion,  it  seems  to  be  taken  for  granted  that  all  the 
women  of  the  civilized  world  lead  a  life  of  elegant 

O 

leisure.  I  am  afraid  there  are  women  overworked 
and  undervalued  in  Christian  countries  as  well  as  in 
Pagan.  Christianity  has  yet  a  great  work  to  do  in 
both.  The  claims  of  those  who  make  no  claim  for 
themselves  are  everywhere  the  last  to  be  recog 
nized. 

"  In  those  parts  of  Africa  that  have  been 
thoroughly  debased  by  the  slave-trade,  the  condi 
tion  of  the  women  is  undoubtedly  terribly  degraded. 
Even  farther  inland,  where  the  manners  are  less  di 
rectly  affected  by  it,  its  influence  is  felt  on  the  stand 
ing  and  character  of  women.  Laing  says,  with  great 
justice,  that  4  the  warlike  and  predatory  life  of  the 
men,  which  has  been  fostered  and  confirmed  into 
habit  under  the  excitement  of  the  trade  in  slaves, 
has  had  its  usual  effect  in  destroying  the  better  feel 
ings  towards  women.'  But  there  are  not  wanting 
races  in  Africa  among  whom  the  family-relations 
are  regulated  by  a  higher  justice,  and  even  by  a 
certain  refinement  of  kindness.  It  is  certain,  that, 
in  many  parts  of  the  country,  women  are  treated 
with  a  respect  never  paid  them,  except  when  it  is 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  133 

won  by  capacity  and  disinterestedness.  It  is  not  an 
unusual  thing,  among  the  nations  of  the  interior,  to 
see  a  woman  elevated  to  the  office  of  chief.  In  one 
important  kingdom,  the  name  of  the  mother  is  al 
ways  borne  with  that  of  the  father,  as  among  the 
ancient  Etruscans.  There  are  nations  among  whom 
the  title  of  the  mother  is  considered  stronger  than 
that  of  the  father,  and,  in  case  of  a  separation,  the 
children  remain  with  her.  The  most  solemn  oath 
of  the  Damaras  is,  '  By  the  tears  of  my  mother ! ' 

"  Africa  has  had  her  share  of  heroines,  from  the 
magnificent  Queen  of  Matamba,  renowned  in  di 
plomacy  and  war,  down  to  the  Queen  of  Akim,  a 
woman  '  of  almost  infantile  countenance  and  a  voice 
low  and  soft  as  the  tones  of  a  flute,'  but  who,  in  the 
war  against  the  Tiger-king  of  Ashantee,  '  was  seen 
everywhere  in  the  heat  of  the  battle,  encouraging 
and  exciting  her  troops ;  wherever  the  greatest 
danger  was,  there  was  the  energetic  Queen  of 
Akim.'  Holman  compares  her  to  Boadicea,  and 
even  to  the  great  Queen  Bess." 

"  I  remember  that  Park  speaks  with  respect  and 
gratitude  of  the  African  women." 

"  His  tribute  to  their  kind-heartedness  is  familiar, 
because  it  is  associated  with  a  striking  incident ;  but 
his  testimony  to  their  domestic  worth  is,  I  think, 
less  known.  He  speaks  in  warm  commendation  of 
their  maternal  devotion.  He  saw  with  satisfaction 


134  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

that  their  solicitude  was  not  confined  to  the  physi 
cal  well-being  of  their  children.  '  One  of  the  first 
lessons  that  the  Mandingo  women  teach  their  chil 
dren  is  the  practice  of  truth.'  He  saw  a  poor 
herdsman  brought  home  mortally  wounded  by 
Moorish  robbers,  and  witnessed  the  despair  of  the 
mother.  '  Her  only  consolation,'  he  says,  '  in  her 
uttermost  grief,  was  the  reflection,  that  her  poor 
boy,  in  the  course  of  his  blameless  life,  had  never 
told  a  lie.'  The  affection  of  the  African  mother 
is  fully  returned.  Park  says  he  '  observed  in  all 
parts  of  Africa  that  the  greatest  affront  which  could 
be  offered  to  a  negro  was  to  reflect  on  her  who 
gave  him  birth.'  '  Strike  me,  but  do  not  curse  my 
mother,'  is  heard,  he  says,  even  from  slaves. 

"  According  to  my  authority,  Denham,  here," 
continued  Edward,  laying  his  hand  on  the  book 
from  which  he  had  read,  "  the  women  of  Bornou 
have  as  much  influence  over  their  husbands  as  most 
Christian  wives  can  pretend  to.  He  tells  us,  that, 
the  Sheikh  having  made  some  regulations  displeas 
ing  to  the  women  of  Kouka,  more  than  one  hun 
dred  families  left  the  place,  —  before,  a  favorite  res 
idence,  —  and  went  to  live  where  these  edicts  were 
not  in  force.  The  women  who  remained  omitted 
to  appear  in  a  religious  procession  in  which  they 
should  have  taken  an  important  part,  and  the 
Sheikh  had  to  put  up  with  this  affront. 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  135 

"  I  once  met  with  a  man  who  had  lived  long  in 
one  of  the  Portuguese  settlements  in  Africa,  and 
had  a  good  knowledge  of  many  nations  of  the  inte 
rior.  He  told  me  of  one  considerable  tribe  among 
whom  the  women  were  held  in  such  esteem  that 
nothing  of  importance  was  decided  without  their 
counsel.  It  was  impossible  to  conclude  any  trans 
action  with  a  man  of  this  tribe,  or  engage  him  to 
perform  any  work,  until  he  had  obtained  the  appro 
bation  of  his  wife.  I  think  it  must  be  to  this  or  to 
some  related  tribe  that  a  young  African  belonged 
with  whom  I  made  acquaintance  a  few  years  ago. 
He  was  evidently  of  one  of  the  higher  races.  He 
was  only  fourteen  years  old  when  he  left  his  home, 
but  his  recollections  of  his  early  years  were  very 
distinct.  He  described  to  me  the  house  of  his 
father,  and  the  garden,  his  mother's  pride,  which 
surrounded  it.  His  father,  he  assured  me,  had  but 
one  wife.  She  died.  The  father  then  abandoned 
his  possessions,  and  the  family  never  returned  to 
their  former  home,  except  to  lay  offerings  on  the 
mother's  grave.  He  told  me  that  this  excessive 
respect  for  the  dead  was  not  peculiar  to  his  father, 
but  the  custom  of  his  people.  Piety  to  the  dead 
is,  indeed,  a  characteristic  of  the  Africans.  After 
a  battle,  it  is  common  for  them  to  render  the  last 
offices  to  the  bodies  of  their  enemies  as  well  as  to 
those  of  their  own  people.  They  have  an  instinc- 


136  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

tive  sense  of  the  dignity  of  the  human  frame; 
though,  perhaps,  as  yet  they  may  have  shown  it 
only  in  act,  and  may  not  have  found  in  words  the 
perfect  expression  of  this  feeling  that  Spenser  has 
furnished  us  with  :  — 

1  The  wondrous  workmanship  of  God's  own  mould, 
Whose  face  he  made  all  beasts  to  fear,  and  gave' 
All  in  his  hand,  even  dead  we  honor  should.' 

"And  yet,  why  do  I  say  this?"  he  added, 
after  a  moment's  thought.  «  Africa  is  a  land  of 
poets.  There  is  probably  no  feeling  common  to 
humanity  that  they  have  not  consecrated  in  their 

verse." 

"  I  have  seen  but  one  translation  of  an  African 
poem,  —  that  given  by  Mungo  Park." 

'  The  song  of  the  young  improvvisatrice  at  Sego, 
which  was  paraphrased  in  English  by  the  Duchess 
of  Devonshire?  Most  of  the  poems  given  by 
travellers  in  Africa  have  been  effusions  of  this 
sort,  preserved  on  account  of  the  occasion  which 
called  them  forth:  for  the  gift  of  song  would 
seem  to  be  as  liberally  bestowed  in  Africa  as  in 
Italy.  I  do  not  remember  to  have  met  with  a 
translation  of  any  of  the  traditionary  poetry  of  the 
Africans.  This  must  be  the  most  valuable.  Their 
bards  are  their  historians,  the  preservers  of  their 
legends,  and  of  the  maxims  which  embody  the  wis 
dom  of  their  ancestors.  I  do  not  know  that  we 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  137 

have  a  translation  of  any  poem  by  a  bard  whom 
the  Africans  themselves  regard  as  eminent. 

"  Laing  gives  a  translation  of  a  song  which  com 
memorates  the  successful  resistance  of  the  Sulimas 
to  an  attack  upon  their  capital  by  the  Fulahs.  It 
is  modern.  Laing  saw  its  hero,  Yarradi,  brother 
to  the  king  of  the  Sulimas.  Considering  that  the 
subject  is  warlike,  it  is  of  an  elevated  character. 
It  contains  no  vituperative,  no  sanguinary  expres 
sions.  It  begins  with  a  generous  recognition  of  the 
valor  of  the  enemy  :  — 

" '  The  Fulahs  are  brave  ;  only  the  Sulimas  can 
stand  against  them.  They  came  upon  us  over  the 
hills  like  the  rolling  of  a  mighty  river.  They  de 
manded  tribute  of  the  men  of  Falaba.  Yarradi 
made  answer  with  a  barbed  arrow.  The  fight 
began  ;  the  sun  hid  his  face,  that  he  might  not  see 
the  number  of  the  slain.  The  clouds  that  covered 
the  sky  lowered  like  the  brow  of  our  leader.  The 
Fulahs  fought  like  men.  But  what  could  they 
against  Yarradi,  the  Sulima  lion  ?  They  fled, 
never  to  return,  and  Falaba  is  at  peace.' 

"  I  think  this  poem  bears  the  disadvantage  of  a 
plain  prose  translation  as  well  as  some  of  more 
illustrious  origin.  Suppose  it  invested  with  the 
charm  of  rhythm,  and  of  that  adaptation  of  the 
language  to  the  ideas  which  the  poet,  to  whom  both 
were  native,  must  have  given  it,  and  we  have,  I 


138  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

think,  a  patriotic  poem  that  might  stand  with  some 
to  which  civilized  hearts  have  beat  quicker. 

"Bowdich  has  noted  down  some  fragments  of 
mythology  contained  in  the  popular  poetry  of  the 
Africans.  A  favorite  song  chanted  in  Empoong- 
wa  to  the  enchambee,  in  the  moonlight  evenings, 
relates  the  arts  by  which  the  Sun  gained  an  ascen 
dency  over  the  Moon,  created  its  equal  by  the  com 
mon  Father. 

"  I  am  sorry  that  Bowdich  could  not  secure  the 
poem  he  heard  sung  to  the  harp  by  the  deformed, 
quivering-eyed  bard  from  Imbiki,  who,  they  said, 
*  was  mad  only  when  he  played,'  and  who,  in  his 
recitative,  £now  mournful,  now  impetuous,  now  ex 
hilarated,  wandered  through  the  life  of  man  and 
the  animal  and  vegetable  kingdoms.'  At  the  close 
of  one  of  his  strophes,  the  strange  bard  '  burst  out 
with  the  full  force  of  his  powerful  voice  in  the 
notes  of  the  "  Hallelujah  "  of  Handel.'  Bowdich 
thinks  that  this  rhapsody,  '  abrupt,  transient,  alle 
gorical,'  was  without  connection  or  purpose.  But 
I  believe  a  Frenchman  would  pronounce  the  same 
judgment  on  the  '  Allegro '  of  Milton  sung  to  Han 
del's  music,  if  he  were  kept  informed,  as  Bowdich 
was,  by  an  oral  translation  given  at  the  time,  line 
by  line,  and  only  half  caught  by  an  ear  intent  on 
following  the  music.  Bowdich  says  he  was  '  so 
possessed  by  the  music,  that  he  could  not  note  half 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  139 

that  was  communicated  to  him  by  the  headman 
of  the  town,  who  translated  for  him.' 

"  It  is  much  to  be  desired  that  some  men  pos 
sessed  of  the  peculiar  genius  and  the  zealous  in 
dustry  of  the  Danish,  German,  and  Finnish  schol 
ars,  who  have  done  so  much  to  preserve  the  early 
poetry  of  Europe,  would  apply  themselves  to  learn 
ing  the  principal  languages  of  Africa,  and  enter 
that  great  unexplored  field  of  primitive  song." 

"  There  will  soon,  no  doubt,  be  educated  men  of 
African  descent  who  will  be  inspired  with  emula 
tion,  and  will  devote  themselves  to  rendering  this 
service  to  the  mother-country." 

"  I  am  persuaded  that  the  result  would  be  the 
rescue  of  a  store  of  mythological  and  historical 
poems  of  great  interest.  It  is  only  a  few  years 
since  Lonnrot  enriched  the  world  with  a  new  epic 
which  tradition  had  preserved  among  a  people  as 
little  suspected  of  such  wealth  as  the  Africans  now 
are." 

"  Have  you  ever  known  an  African  poet  ?  " 

"  I  have  met  with  one  who,  though  very  young 
when  he  was  made  a  slave,  must,  from  his  own  ac 
count,  have  been  already  an  esteemed  bard  in  his 
country.  I  have  heard  him  sing  very  agreeably  in 
his  native  language ;  but  he  had  acquired  ours,  and, 
being  naturally  desirous  to  be  understood  by  his 
listeners,  composed  his  poems  in  it.  He  had  at- 


140  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

tained  a  skill  in  English  versification  which  sur 
prised  me ;  but  no  man  can  make  a  foreign  tongue 
completely  his  own.  Some  of  his  narrative  poems, 
in  which  he  forced  the  language  to  serve  his  ends, 
were  spirited ;  but  his  more  finished  productions, 
such  as  hymns,  —  for  which  his  talents  were  chief 
ly  called  into  service,  —  were  smooth  and  colorless. 
Yet  he  was  a  man  of  thought  and  judgment,  and 
his  mind  had  evidently  had  a  certain  training." 

"Does  it  often  happen  that  men  of  rank  pass 
into  foreign  slavery  ?  " 

"  It  happens  not  unfrequently.  And  not  only 
men  of  rank,  but  men  of  education,  even  accord 
ing  to  our  ideas  of  education,  have  shared  the  la 
bors  of  the  most  abject  slave  on  our  plantations,  and 
at  last  his  grave.  A  few  have  been  more  fortunate, 
and  have  been  restored  to  their  country  after  some 
years'  experience  of  slavery. 

"  About  a  century  ago,  the  son  of  an  African 
king  was  a  slave  in  Maryland.  His  father,  king 
of  Bunda,  had  sent  him  to  transact  some  business 
with  an  English  captain,  by  name  Pike,  whose 
vessel  was  then  lying  in  the  Gambia.  On  his  re 
turn,  he  was  tempted  by  the  desire  of  travelling. 
Dismissing  his  escort,  he  crossed  the  Gambia  and 
entered  a  country  that  was  hostile  to  his  own. 
He  was  taken  prisoner  and  carried  before  the 
king,  who  sold  him  to  the  same  captain  with 


RECORD  OF  AN   OBSCURE  MAN.  141 

whom  he  had  himself  had  dealings.  The  captain, 
recognizing  him,  permitted  him  to  write  to  his 
father  for  ransom,  hut  set  sail  without  waiting  for 
the  answer,  and  carried  his  prisoner  to  Maryland, 
where  he  was  sold  to  a  merchant  of  Annapolis. 
He  succeeded  in  interesting  his  master  in  his  story, 
and  obtained  permission  to  write  to  his  father.  His 
letter,  which  was  written  in  Arabic,  was  sent  to 
England  to  be  given  to  Pike,  who  was  to  take  it  to 
Africa  on  his  next  voyage;  it  was  seen  by  Ogle- 
thorpe,  who  sent  it  to  Oxford  to  be  translated,  and, 
having  thus  learned  the  story  of  the  unfortunate 
prince,  sent  him  money  to  enable  him  to  go  to 
Englaiid.  His  case  excited  great  sympathy  there. 
He  was  presented  at  court,  and  treated  with  dis 
tinction.  He  was  found  to  be  very  intelligent  and 
well  informed.  He  was  much  interested  in  every 
thing  he  saw,  and  especially  in  the  mechanism  of 
instruments,  which  he  understood  without  difficul 
ty.  Having  once  seen  a  clock  taken  to  pieces,  he 
put  it  together  again  without  aid.  His  memory 
was  extraordinary.  He  is  described  as  a  man  of 
polished  manners,  —  very  agreeable  in  society,  hav 
ing  a  pleasant  talent  for  narration  ;  his  conversation 
was  marked  by  good  sense  and  love  of  truth.  He 
remained  in  England  fourteen  months,  and  was 
employed  by  Hans  Sloane  in  translating  Arabic 
manuscripts  and  inscriptions  on  medals.  On  his 


142  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

return  to  Africa,  he  found  that  the  king  who  had 
sold  him  had  accidentally  shot  himself  with  a  pistol 
which  there  was  reason  to  believe  had  been  a  part 
of  the  price  received  for  him  from  the  English 
captain.  He  thought  he  recognized  the  hand  of 
Heaven  both  in  this  retribution,  and  in  the  mercy 
which,  through  the  enlightenment  he  had  gained 
in  England,  had  turned  an  injury  into  a  benefit." 

"  Have  you  ever  met  with  a  native  African  who 
appeared  to  have  received  anything  like  what  we 
call  education  before  coming  to  this  country?" 

"  Many  years  ago,  —  indeed,  it  was  when  I  was 
first  making  acquaintance  with  slavery  and  slaves, 
—  I  passed  some  time  on  the  plantation  of  a  distant 
relative  of  my  father,  in  one  of  the  older  Southern 
States.  He  had  an  only  son,  a  good,  intelligent 
boy,  but  incapable  of  the  sports  and  the  studies 
of  youth.  His  life  was  passed  in  almost  constant 
suffering.  His  attendant  was  a  native  African  who 
had  received  the  name  of  Abel.  This  man  was  an 
object  of  great  interest  to  me.  He  was  sedate  and 
silent ;  very  faithful  and  very  tender  to  his  charge, 
but  having  always  the  air  of  one  who  offers  pro 
tection,  not  service.  He  was  stately  to  his  fellow- 
slaves,  who  approached  him  with  less  assurance 
than  they  did  their  master.  He  used  to  draw  the 
invalid  in  a  small  wagon,  for  hours  every  day, 
about  the  garden  and  grounds.  I  always  made 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  143 

one  of  the  strange  party  attendant  on  these  prom 
enades.  I  walked  beside  the  wagon  ;  on  the  other 
side  went  a  tall  black  woman  who  had  been  the 
poor  boy's  nurse,  and  who  always  addressed  him 
in  the  caressing  tones  used  to  infants.  Behind 
came  a  troop  of  children  and  half-grown  boys, 
who  made  a  feint  of  being  useful  by  rushing  for 
ward  to  lay  hands  on  the  wagon  when  a  rivulet 
ran  across  the  path  or  we  approached  a  piece  of 
uneven  ground.  These  exhibitions  of  zeal  were 

O 

repressed  by  Abel  before  they  passed  into  action; 
but  they  were  uniformly  renewed  with  the  same 
fervor,  on  the  next  occasion.  Abel  suffered  no 
one  to  aid  but  the  nurse.  Yet  he  did  not  banish 
the  disorderly  cortege.  He  was  indulgent  to  their 
affection  for  their  young  master,  when  it  was  not 
too  officious  or  too  noisy. 

"  At  a  certain  distance  behind  this  rabble  came 
a  strange  figure,  —  a  small  mulatto  woman,  in  a 
costume  more  picturesque  than  harmonious  or 
complete.  Her  great  black  eyes,  which  seemed 
to  have  outgrown  her  shrunk  features,  were  fixed 
constantly  on  the  little  wagon,  which  she  appeared 
to  follow  mechanically,  as  if  drawn  by  some  steady 
attraction.  She  was  partially  insane,  but  regarded 
as  harmless.  I  learned  that  it  was  while  left  in 
this  woman's  charge  for  a  short  time  by  his 
nurse  that  the  unfortunate  child  met  with  the 


144  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

accident  which  had  ruined  his  life.  Grief  for  the 
misfortune  she  had  occasioned  had,  they  told  me, 
impaired  her  intellect.  She  was  sent  from  the 
great  house,  and  for  some  years  employed  to  take 
care  of  the  children  of  the  plantation  while  their 
mothers  were  at  work;  but  her  disposition  to 
wander  becoming  uncontrollable,  she  was  ex 
empted  from  all  service.  We  always  found  her 
at  a  particular  point  of  our  road,  standing  on  a 
high  bank  which  overlooked  it.  When  we  had 
passed,  she  descended  and  followed.  At  first  this 
wild  figure  fixed  my  attention  strongly ;  but  I  soon 
became  accustomed  to  its  presence,  and  indifferent 
to  it.  Yet  I  observed,  that,  from  time  to  time, 
Abel  cast  a  sharp  glance  towards  her.  When 
sometimes  the  distance  between  her  and  the  wao-on 

o 

was  a  little  lessened,  with  a  slight  sign  of  his  hand 
he  made  her  retreat ;  and  once,  when,  as  we  were 
winding  along  the  edge  of  a  deep  ravine,  she  sud 
denly  approached,  as  if  about  to  offer  aid,  the 
words  '  Too  near ! '  in  a  stern  voice,  arrested  her, 
and  she  remained  standing  motionless  until  the 
customary  space  separated  her  from  the  wagon. 

"  When  the  poor  invalid  sank  into  slumber,  as  he 
frequently  did,  we  stopped  in  some  pleasant  spot. 
The  escort  then,  dismissed  by  a  wave  of  Abel's 
hand,  disappeared  into  the  woods,  ready  to  start 
forth  as  soon  as  the  wagon  should  be  again  in  mo- 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  145 

tion.  Then  the  nurse  would  gather  a  branch  from 
some  tree  or  shrub,  choosing,  when  she  could,  one 
loaded  with  blossoms,  and  seat  herself  on  the  ground 
beside  the  wagon.  There,  her  head  sunk  on  her 
breast,  her  eyes  closed,  she  seemed  to  slumber  from 
sympathy.  Yet  her  care  was  wakeful.  As  long  as 
the  wagon  halted,  the  fragrant  fan  waved  backward 
and  forward  over  it,  with  a  slow,  regular  motion, 
keeping  time  with  the  breathing  of  the  sleeper. 
"  I  followed  Abel,  who  commonly  withdrew  him 
self  a  little  from  the  wagon,  though  not  so  far  but 
that  he  could  keep  watch  over  it.  He  would  some 
times  remain  long  standing  immovable,  gazing  in 
tently  forward,  as  if  his  soul  were  straining  out  into 
some  distance  greater  than  that  the  pine-wood  be 
fore  him  bounded.  This  tall,  silent  figure  seemed 
to  my  boyish  imagination  a  personification  of  that 
vast,  unexplored  continent,  land  of  mystery  and 
marvel,  of  which  nothing  was  known  certainly  but 
its  sorrows.  I  desired  ardently  to  know  the  history 
which  had  stamped  that  expression  of  resolute  en 
durance  on  his  proud,  dark  face.  But  I  could  not 
take  advantage  of  my  position  to  make  an  attempt 
on  his  confidence.  It  was  long  in  giving  itself  to 
me.  But  a  day  came  when  suddenly,  without  pre 
meditation,  he  opened  his  heart  to  me  fully  and 
simply,  as  one  child  to  another.  From  that  time 
his  gloom  seemed  lightened.  Those  intervals  of 
10 


146  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

rest,  which  before  were  spent  in  mournful  reverie, 
were  now  given  to  earnest  conversation. 

o 

"Abel  was  a  native  of  that  mysterious  Tim- 
buctu  whose  very  existence  was  so  long  called 
in  question,  and  which  was  at  that  time  known  to 
the  world  only  through  the  uncertain  description 
of  Leo  Africanus  and  the  romantic  narratives  of 
Adams  and  of  Riley.  Laing  had  not  yet  set  out 
on  his  fatal  expedition,  and  Caill6  had  not  proved 
that  it  was  possible  for  a  European  to  see  Tim- 
buctu  and  live.  You  may  imagine  with  what 
interest  I  listened  to  the  recitals  of  Abel.  He 
was  the  son  of  one  of  the  principal  officers  of 
state,  and  had  been  carefully  educated.  He  spoke 
and  wrote  Arabic,  and  gave  me  lessons  in  it,  teach 
ing  me  the  letters  by  drawing  them  in  the  sand. 
He  was  well  versed  in  the  history  of  his  coun 
try  and  the  neighboring  states.  He  told  me  of 
the  rise  and  fall  of  dynasties,  of  ruined  cities, 
once  the  seat  of  empire,  but  whose  site  is  now 
marked  only  by  crumbling  walls  inclosing  a  vast 
uncultivated  space  strewed  with  fragments  of  brick 
and  pottery.  He  told  me  of  the  islands  of  rock, 
in  the  midst  of  their  great  plains,  where  the 
Swiss  of  Negroland  had  maintained  an  indepen 
dence  constantly  threatened.  As  I  followed  his 
relations,  and  heard  him  refer  to  the  annals  he 
had  studied,  as  to  grave  and  authentic  chronicles, 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  147 

it  seemed  to  me  I  was  listening  to  some  strange 
parody  of  history.  These  remote,  unknown  states 
had  their  records  of  revolutions  and  counter-revo 
lutions,  of  invasions  successfully  repelled,  or  a  for 
eign  yoke  imposed.  The  rivalries  and  hates  of 
royal  families  had  given  birth  to  tragedies  as  fear 
ful  as  in  Greece  or  England. 

"  The  questions  were  not  all  on  my  side.  He 
asked  me  concerning  the  government  and  laws  of 
my  country,  its  domestic  customs,  especially  those 
of  the  States  in  which  slavery  is  prohibited.  His 
inquiries  showed  not  only  intelligence,  but  reflec 
tion,  and  a  mind  prepared  to  digest  and  classify 
information.  I  learned  my  own  ignorance  in  re 
gard  to  many  important  matters,  through  his  in 
terrogatories.  He  did  not  conceal  from  me  his 
strong  desire  to  recover  his  liberty,  or  rather,  his 
fixed  determination  to  do  so  in  one  way  or  an 
other.  He  had  considered  all  the  chances  of  es 
cape  ;  but  his  great  intelligence  made  him  fully 
acquainted  with  the  difficulties  that  surrounded  an 
attempt  at  flight.  He  knew  that  such  an  at 
tempt  and  failure  would  greatly  lessen  his  chances 
of  success  by  another  scheme.  He  had  not  the 
hardihood  of  the  ignorant  slave,  which  carries  him 
safely  through  perils  he  would  not  have  risked,  if 
he  had  understood  them.  Another  feeling  still 
held  Abel  where  he  was :  attachment  to  the  boy 


148  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

under  his  care.  4  How  can  I  leave  him,'  he  said, 
anxiously,  'until  he  is  strong  enough  to  do  with 
out  me,  or ' He  could  not  speak  the  alterna 
tive.  '  He  needs  to  be  watched  over.'  As  he  said 
this,  he  cast  around  him  a  keen  glance,  which  rest 
ed  searchingly  on  a  cluster  of  trees  from  behind  one 
of  which  I  thought  I  saw  the  flutter  of  drapery, 
but,  as  I  looked,  it  had  disappeared.  4  He  needs 
to  be  watched  over,'  Abel  repeated,  — '  only  I 
know  how  closely.'  ' 

"  Had  he  any  special  meaning  ?  " 

"  He  did  not  explain  himself;  and  it  was  not  un 
til  many  years  afterwards  —  after  the  death  of  the 
poor  boy,  and  the  departure  of  Abel  —  that  I  under 
stood  his  words,  and  learned  that  he  had  penetrated 
what  was  a  secret  to  every  one  else." 

"  The  crazy  woman  !  " 

"  Yes.  It  was  one  of  those  terrible  instances  of 
servile  vengeance  which  from  time  to  time  startle 
the  master  out  of  his  security,  but  which  are  soon 
forgotten  again,  until  a  new  tragedy  of  the  same 
kind  calls  to  mind  the  old  one." 

"Did  she  reveal  her  crime  herself?" 

"  On  her  deathbed,  which  was  watched  by  the 
mistress  whose  house  she  had  made  desolate.  She 
revealed  it,  not  in  penitence,  but  in  a  last  moment 
of  triumph." 

"  So  the  boy  died !     And  Abel  escaped  ?  " 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  149 

"  No ;  his  master  was  just  to  him.  The  suf 
fering  child  expressed,  a  few  months  before  his 
death,  in  the  presence  of  his  father,  —  a  proud, 
generous  man,  —  his  warm  gratitude  to  his  faith 
ful  attendant.  'But,  oh,  Abel,'  he  said,  cif  I 
could  only  think  you  took  care  of  me  for  love, 
and  not  because  you  must ! '  —  'I  have  served 
you  from  choice,'  Abel  answered ;  '  have  I  ever 
called  you  master  ?  '  —  And  the  father  :  '  I  can 
not  suffer  a  slave  to  speak  thus  in  my  presence. 
Abel,  you  are  a  free  man.' 

"  When  his  duties  were  ended  by  the  death  of 
his  charge,  Abel  entered  the  service  of  an  English 
man  who  was  travelling  in  this  country,  and  went 
with  him  to  England.  I  wrote  to  his  former  mas 
ter,  a  few  months  after,  to  ask  information  concern 
ing  him.  I  learned  that  a  letter  had  been  received, 
announcing  his  safe  arrival.  In  this  letter  was  in 
closed  one  for  me ;  but  it  had  unfortunately  been 
mislaid.  He  had  sent  his  address ;  it  had  also  been 
lost  and  forgotten." 

A  heavy  tread  approached  the  door ;  a  broad 
face  intruded,  —  a  face  that  might  have  been  the 
impersonation  of  Duty,  so  honest,  so  insensible,  so 
obstinate.  Edward  received  the  summons  as  com 
ing  from  that  determined  divinity,  and  offered  no 
resistance. 


150  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 


V. 

THE  evening  came  and  brought  back  my  friend. 
Though  I  had  claimed  so  much  of  his  time  during 
the  day,  I  did  not  scruple  to  call  for  the  expected 
reading.  It  was  less  interrupted  by  conversation 
than  usual.  As  I  have  already  said,  Colvil  talked 
with  me  of  his  personages  as  if  they  had  been  real 
existences,  frequently  adding  details  in  regard  to 
their  character  or  history,  and  accepting  or  reject 
ing  frankly  the  strictures  I  made  on  his  delineation. 
This  was  the  case  with  all  but  his  heroine,  to  whom 
this  evening  introduced  me.  He  did  not  seem  in 
clined  to  talk  of  her,  but  left  me  to  what  was  writ 
ten.  Sometimes,  at  a  question  or  remark  I  made 
concerning  her,  he  turned  back  to  the  passage  that 
called  it  forth  and  read  it  again  to  himself,  with  the 
expression  a  painter  has,  when,  the  comment  of  a 
passer-by  suggesting  an  unwilling  doubt,  he  eyes 
his  work  distrustfully  with  suspended  pencil.  Ed 
ward  did  not  give  me  the  result  of  his  scrutiny ;  but 
I  observed  afterwards  insertions  and  alterations  in 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  151 

the  manuscript,  some  of  which  I  thought  had  been 
suggested  by  a  query  or  comment  of  mine. 

Day  followed  day  to  find  me  still  an  inmate  of 
the  remote  farm-house,  the  charm  still  unbroken, 
the  outpouring  of  thoughts  and  confidences  still 
unexhausted.  But  my  satisfaction,  in  this  life  of 
freedom  from  conventionalities  and  in  this  new 
pleasure  of  unconstrained  friendship,  was  troubled 
by  an  occasional  prick  of  conscience,  which  re 
minded  me  that  I  was  prolonging  too  much  the 
vacation  allowed  me  by  my  father,  and  that  he 
might  already  be  uneasy  at  my  absence  from  the 
counting-room,  where  I  was  useless,  but  where  it 
was  his  pleasure  that  I  should  pass  a  certain  num 
ber  of  hours  every  day.  The  state  of  his  health 
made  a  small  matter  important  to  him,  and  did  not 
permit  me  to  hazard  his  suffering  any  anxiety,  how 
ever  unreasonable.  My  convalescence  had  received 
no  check.  I  could  find  no  pretext  for  a  further 
delay.  I  rose  one  morning  decided  that  the  next 
day  should  see  me  on  my  road  towards  the  North. 

I  had  now  for  several  days  successively  made 
myself  Edward's  companion  when  he  went  out  to 
his  work.  On  this  morning  he  proposed  to  me  that 
we  should  walk  together  over  his  whole  farm,  whose 
entire  beauties  and  resources  he  had  not  yet  dis 
played  to  me.  I  resolved  to  take  this  occasion  to 
set  forth  the  projects  with  which  I  had  been  pleas- 


152  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN". 

ing  myself.  I  had  arranged  everything  satisfac 
torily  in  my  own  mind.  Edward  was  to  forward 
to  me  a  copy  of  each  of  his  finished  works,  and  I 
was  at  once  to  take  measures  for  having  them 
brought  before  the  public.  I  had  considered  my 
plans  maturely,  had  called  up  all  objections,  and 
prepared  myself  to  refute  them. 

Colvil's  estate  offered  little  variety,  and  to  me 
little  interest,  except  what  it  gained  from  being  his. 
I  should  have  felt  a  profound  pity  for  my  farmer 
friend,  if  he  had  seemed  at  all  to  stand  in  need  of 
it.  But  the  cheerful  glance  with  which  he  scan 
ned  his  little  domain,  the  satisfaction  with  which 
he  spoke  of  his  future  crops  and  his  plans  for  in 
creasing  them,  the  animated  pleasure  with  which 
he  called  my  attention  to  beauties  in  his  landscape 
which  I  should  not  have  thought  of  looking  for, 
and  hardly  found  when  he  pointed  them  out,  for 
bade  me  to  regard  him  as  an  object  of  compassion. 

I  had  not  yet  told  Edward  that  this  day  was  to 
be  my  last  with  him.  A  deep  shade  passed  over 
his  face  when  I  made  this  announcement,  which  I 
did  abruptly,  for  it  cost  me  an  effort.  He  began  to 
offer  remonstrances;  but  the  plea  of  duty  instantly 
checked  them.  I  could  see,  however,  that  he  was 
disappointed  and  saddened.  His  eye  moved  list 
lessly  over  the  landscape  which  had  brightened  it 
but  a  few  moments  before.  I  was  not  so  selfish  as 


EECOKD  OF  AST  OBSCUKE  MAN.  153 

to  rejoice  in  this  proof  of  the  consequence  I  was  to 
him.  I  felt  that  my  departure  would  leave  a  blank 
in  his  life,  greater  perhaps  than  the  separation  from 
him  would  make  in  mine.  To  me  this  friendship 
was  the  crowning  wreath  to  a  full  cup  ;  to  him  was 
it  not  as  the  single  flower  that  had  sprung  up  in  the 
waste  ?  I  hastened  to  lay  before  him  the  project 
which  was  to  form  a  link  between  us  and  give  us  a 
subject  of  interest  in  common. 

The  recipient  of  a  confidence  like  that  I  had 
been  intrusted  with  stands  somewhat  in  the  same 
relation  to  the  work  of  his  friend  that  a  bachelor 
uncle  does  to  his  brother's  son.  His  expectations 
are  commonly  more  unreasonable  than  those  of  the 
real  parent ;  if  they  are  in  any  degree  fulfilled,  he 
has  his  full  share  of  satisfaction ;  if  they  are  de 
feated,  he  has  a  mild  disappointment  which  he  is 
at  least  at  liberty  to  think  unmerited.  He  is  very 
courageous,  then,  the  self-elected  sponsor  of  an  in- 
edited  book ;  he  has  something  to  look  forward  to, 
and  not  much  at  risk. 

I  entered  on  the  detail  of  my  plans  with  a  zeal 
so  little  restrained,  that  Edward  could  not  help 
regarding  me  with  an  amused  smile,  which  only 
led  me  to  combat  more  earnestly  the  dissent  I 
thought  it  implied.  I  exhausted  myself  in  argu 
ments  and  assurances  before  I  gave  him  an  oppor 
tunity  to  reply.  He  yielded  half  my  demand,  and 


154  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

postponed  Ms  answer  to  the  other  half.  He  gave 
me  a  willing  promise  to  send  me  a  copy  of  his  fin 
ished  dramas,  and  also  to  complete  for  me  those 
that  were  only  begun. 

"  It  will  enhance  the  pleasure  of  writing,"  he 
said,  "  to  know  that  I  am  writing  for  you ;  and  the 
necessity  of  giving  you  the  end  of  a  story  of  which 
you  have  had  the  beginning  will  prevent  me  from 
letting  myself  be  seduced  by  a  new  subject  before 
the  old  one  has  been  worked  out." 

As  to  the  rest  of  my  scheme,  he  thought  it  was 
to  be  maturely  considered  before  it  was  adopted. 

"  We  have  time  before  us.  You  are  public 
enough  for  me  at  present." 

I  could  not  move  him  from  this  point.  But  I 
was,  on  the  whole,  satisfied  with  what  I  had  se 
cured.  I  had  not  hoped  to  gain  so  much  thus 
easily.  It  was  a  proof,  very  precious  to  me,  of  his 
confidence  in  my  affection,  that  he  should  willingly, 
even  gladly,  give  over  to  my  inspection  produc 
tions  of  whose  value  he  was  not  himself  assured. 

The  moment  of  parting  came.  "You  will  not 
forget  me  ?  "  I  said,  as  I  held  out  my  hand  to  Ed 
ward  for  the  last  time.  A  firm,  slowly  tightening 
pressure  was  the  only  answer.  I  felt  in  it  the  as 
surance  of  a  constant,  only  deepening  affection. 

I  was  returning  to  my  father's  house,  —  a  house 
with  which  were  associated  ideas  of  refined  luxury 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  155 

combined  with  order  not  excessive,  a  wise  liberal 
ity,  and  the  decorum  of  high  breeding.  Nor  was 
kindness  wanting  there,  true  and  steadfast.  Why 
was  it,  that,  when  the  gate,  which  had  opened  to 
me  for  the  first  time  only  three  weeks  before, 
closed  behind  me,  I  felt  as  if  excluded  from  a 
home? 

I  did  not  look  back,  but  I  held  my  horse  in  to  a 
walk  until  I  knew  the  house  was  no  longer  in  sight. 
Every  step  he  planted  in  the  sand  seemed  like  a 
seal  set  on  my  sentence  of  banishment. 

My  sadness  did  not  last,  however  unwilling  I  was 
to  part  with  it.  The  fresh  air  of  the  morning  and 
the  lively  step  of  my  horse,  who  was  with  difficulty 
restrained  to  a  pace  that  suited  my  reluctance,  had, 
in  spite  of  me,  their  effect  on  my  youthful  consti 
tution.  I  gradually  yielded  myself  to  the  exhila 
rating  influences.  The  last  traces  of  my  melan 
choly  were  dissipated,  when,  in  the  afternoon,  I 
came  into  a  higher  region,  where  the  air  was  more 
bracing,  the  prospect  wide  and  varied.  I  began 
to  look  out  cheerily  into  the  world.  I  thought 
with  pleasure  of  the  old  scenes  to  which  I  was  go 
ing  back  enriched.  Every  object  which  rose  up 
before  my  mind  seemed,  like  myself,  to  have  had 
something  added  to  its  life.  There  was  waiting 
for  me  the  room  I  had  so  minutely  described  to 
Colvil.  I  had  drawn  for  him  the  tree  whose 


156  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

branches  sweep  its  windows.  There  on  my  shelves 
were  books  of  which  I  had  talked  with  him ;  others 
that  had  had  their  day  of  favor,  but  were  now  to 
give  place  to  new  friends  he  had  taught  me  to  love. 
In  my  secretary  were  drawers  destined  to  receive 
his  manuscripts. 

And  my  father,  —  how  venerable  his  figure  rose 
before  me !  how  precious  seemed  his  simple,  digni 
fied  affection  !  My  stately,  silent  sister,  —  I  felt  a 
pride  in  her  beauty,  her  womanly  worth.  I  looked 
forward  with  pleasure  even  to  seeing  the  common 
acquaintances  who  I  had  sometimes  thought  bored 
me.  I  believed  I  should  find  their  conversation  no 
longer  so  vapid  as  before.  The  society  of  ordinary 
acquaintances  is,  to  him  who  has  a  friend,  like  the 
dessert  after  a  dinner ;  but  he  who  has  no  deep 
er  affection,  for  a  stand-by,  can  no  more  satisfy 
himself  with  it  than  a  hungry  man  with  com- 
fiture. 

The  reality  fell  no  farther  short  of  anticipation 
than  it  always  does.  In  my  father's  greeting  there 
was  a  shade  of  sadness,  due  to  my  lengthened  ab 
sence.  It  was  slight,  and  vanished  as  soon  as  he 
saw  I  had  perceived  it ;  but  the  interview  was 
not  as  I  had  rehearsed  it  beforehand.  I  went  to 
my  sister.  I  found  her  preoccupied  by  some  press 
ing  cares  of  her  own,  and  my  return  moved  her  less 
than  I  had  expected. 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  157 

In  the  evening  I  joined  the  family  circle  with 
lower  expectations.  Their  humility  was  rewarded. 
My  father  seemed  to  have  gained  health  by  my  ar 
rival.  He  hardly  looked  infirm,  as  he  sat  erect  in 
his  arm-chair.  His  eye  beamed  affectionately  on 
me,  as  I  entered.  He  received  with  his  natural  ur 
banity  the  friends  who  came  in  to  welcome  me  on 
my  return.  He  spoke  little,  —  but  took  part  in  the 
conversation,  which  was  animated  and  genial,  by 
his  ready  smile  and  appreciating  gesture.  My  sister 
was  charming,  —  as  she  was  when  some  occasional 
excitement  took  her  out  of  her  habitual  calm.  I 
knew  it  was  my  return  that  brightened  her  look 
and  gave  vivacity  to  her  thoughts,  and  I  was  grate 
ful.  I  wrote  to  Colvil  that  night,  and  talked  to 
him  of  my  home  as  I  had  dreamed  it,  and  as  I  had 
already  described  it  to  him. 

I  was  impatient  to  carry  out  my  plans.  Books, 
now,  had  a  new  form  of  interest  for  me.  I  became 
a  critic  in  paper  and  print.  I  examined  the  ex 
ternal  qualities  of  new  publications,  discovered 
merits  and  demerits  to  which  I  had  been  blind, 
and  learned  to  distinguish  shades  of  difference 
which  had  hitherto  escaped  me.  I  had  soon  fixed 
on  the  form,  the  size  of  the  type,  the  quality  of  the 
paper.  I  delayed,  however,  to  engage  a  publisher 
until  I  should  have  the  complete  work  in  my  hands. 

The  precaution  proved  not  to  have  been  super- 


158  RECORD  OF  AN"  OBSCURE  MAN". 

fluous.  Colvil's  first  letter  brought  me  a  disappoint 
ment.  In  reply  to  my  urgent  demands  for  the 
manuscripts,  he  begged  me  to  forgive  him,  if  he 
made  me  wait  a  little.  He  must  make  some  cor 
rections  and  insertions  before  sending  them,  and 
could  not  then  command  the  necessary  leisure. 
His  farm  duties  occupied  not  only  almost  every 
hour,  but  almost  every  thought.  In  the  intervals 
of  rest  he  was  too  much  fatigued  for  anything  but 
desultory  reading.  He  asked  me  to  send  him  such 
extracts  from  my  journal  as  might  enable  him  to 
follow  in  some  measure  my  daily  life,  and  offered  to 
keep  one  for  me  in  return. 

"  I  shall  have  no  more  important  events  to  re 
cord  for  you,"  he  wrote,  "  than  the  arrival  of  a  new 
book,  or  the  reading  of  an  old  one  in  a  new  light, 
—  the  passage  of  a  party  of  emigrants,  or  perhaps 
the  rare  visit  of  a  traveller  whom  the  love  of  ex 
ploring  has  drawn  aside  from  the  great  high-road. 
But  whatever  my  life  offers  you  shall  have  a  part 
in.  Let  me  share  in  yours." 

I  accepted  this  proposal  gladly.  His  journal  was 
not  very  full  at  first,  but  it  gradually  expanded. 
He  took  up  the  habit  of  sending  me  notes  on  the 
books  he  was  reading,  and  sometimes  gave  me  a 
complete  analysis  of  them.  He  often  recurred  to 
the  subject  of  our  former  discussions,  —  giving  me 
new  illustrations  of  African  character,  and  new 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  159 

facts,  or  the  testimony  of  new  authorities,  in  con 
firmation  of  the  views  he  had  supported. 

"  When  we  were  reading  over,"  he  wrote,  "  the 
evening  before  you  went  away,  your  notes  of  our 
conversations  upon  Africa,  I  marked  several  pas 
sages  to  which  I  meant  to  add  a  further  explana 
tion  ;  but  there  was  so  much  left  to  do  and  say,  in 
our  last  hours  together,  that  I  neglected  it. 

"  I  ought  to  have  told  you,  that  Bowdich,  when 
he  made  that  terrible  statement  in  regard  to  the 
perfidy  of  English  captains  to  whom  the  native 
princes  and  nobles  had  intrusted  their  children, 
acquits  the  French  of  this  infamy.  Their  promises 
of  this  kind,  he  says,  have  always  been  redeemed. 
He  saw  several  men,  sons  of  chiefs,  who  had  been 
educated  in  France.  One  of  them  had  been  com 
mitted  to  an  English  captain,  whose  vessel  was 
captured  by  a  French  privateer  before  he  had  had 
time  to  make  an  exception  to  the  general  villany 
of  his  class  or  to  load  himself  with  a  new  crime. 
The  French  captain  carried  the  boy  to  France, 
and  the  owner  of  the  privateer  fulfilled  the  en 
gagement  thus  transferred  to  him :  he  had  the  boy 
carefully  educated,  and  sent  him  back  to  his  own 
country.  It  will  not  do  to  pass  over  an  instance 
of  honorable  conduct  on  the  part  of  a  white  man 
towards  a  black  man ;  there  are  not  too  many  such 
to  record. 


160  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

"  On  the  subject  of  slavery  among  the  Africans  I 
will  add  a  few  particulars  which  I  believe  I  forgot  to 
give  you.  The  law  which,  in  Africa,  prohibits  the 
sale  of  domestic  slaves  admits  of  certain  exceptions  : 
in  time  of  famine  the  master  is  permitted  to  sell  one 
of  his  slaves  in  order  to  buy  food ;  and  the  insolven 
cy  of  the  master  subjects  the  slave  to  seizure.  The 
bankrupt-laws  of  Africa  are  severe.  The  debtor, 
even  if  a  man  of  rank  and  consequence,  must  him 
self  become  the  slave  of  the  creditor  whom  he  has 
no  other  means  of  satisfying.  If  this  creditor  be  a 
foreign  trader,  the  doom  is  indeed  appalling;  but 
if  he  be  an  African,  passing  into  his  employment 
does  not  necessarily  imply  any  greater  change  of 
condition  than  often  follows  loss  of  fortune  in  other 
countries.  Domestic  service  in  Africa  does  not  in 
spire  any  peculiar  dread.  It  is  not  uncommon, 
when  a  family  is  in  pecuniary  embarrassment,  for 
one  member  of  it  to  devote  himself  to  servitude 
for  the  benefit  of  the  rest.  The  family  receives  a 
certain  sum  of  money  on  his  account,  and  he  re 
mains  in  the  service  of  the  person  who  advances 
it  until  it  is  repaid.  It  is  incumbent  on  his  fami 
ly  to  release  him  as  soon  as  possible.  It  is  also  a 
point  of  honor  with  the  master  whose  domestic 
slave  has  been  seized  for  his  debts  to  redeem  him 
when  it  is  in  his  power.  But,  again,  when  the 
claimant  is  a  foreigner,  even  the  integrity  and 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAX.  161 

affection  of  the  master  can  afford  the  poor  victim 
no  hope. 

"  I  believe  the  cases  I  have  mentioned  are  the 
only  ones  in  which  an  African  domestic,  not  con 
victed  of  crime,  can  be  legally  sold.  The  master  is 
not  himself  the  judge  of  an  accused  slave ;  he  cannot 
sell  him  for  any  offence  without  c  calling  a  palaver 
on  his  conduct,'  or,  in  other  words,  '  bringing  him 
to  a  public  trial.'  This  appears  to  be  the  common 
law  of  Negro  Africa,  for  it  is  reported  by  different 
travellers  as  existing  in  different  regions.  Is  not 
this  continued  recognition  of  laws  restricting  the 
power  of  the  master  over  the  slave  enough  in  itself 
to  show  us  the  falseness  of  our  prevailing  notions 
in  regard  to  native  African  civilization  ?  Can  we 
refuse  to  admire  the  rectitude  and  stability  of  the 
negro  character  which  has  thus  maintained  the  an 
cient  institutions  of  the  country,  assailed  and  un 
dermined  as  they  have  been  for  centuries  by  every 
form  of  violence  and  temptation  ?  Without  doubt, 
the  force  of  the  laws  for  the  protection  of  the  slave 
has  been  weakened  by  the  demoralization  caused  by 
the  foreign  slave-trade;  without  doubt,  they  have 
been  often  evaded,  sometimes  disregarded ;  but  they 
are  still  acknowledged  by  the  general  conscience-, 
and  upheld  by  public  opinion.  The  man  who  vio 
lates  them  incurs  the  danger  of  disgrace ;  and  in  no 
country  are  the  claims  of  honor  more  imperative 
11 


162  RECORD  OF  AN"  OBSCURE  MAN. 

than  in  Africa.  The  '  spoiling  of  a  man's  name '  is 
the  greatest  injury  that  can  be  inflicted  on  him. 

"  The  natural  religion  of  the  African  furnishes 
another  protection  to  the  slave,  as  well  against  cruel 
treatment  as  unlawful  sale.  It  is  believed  that  the 
imprecation  of  the  injured  man  has  power  to  bring 
down  a  judgment  from  Heaven.  It  is  common  for 
travellers  to  speak  of  this  fear  as  a  childish  super 
stition.  But  is  it  not,  in  truth,  the  fear  of  God? 
Are  not  we  also  taught  to  believe  that  the  voice 
of  a  brother's  blood  will  cry  unto  Him  from  the 
ground  ? 

"  There  are  travellers  who  see  in  the  country 
they  visit  only  what  they  expected  to  see,  and  go 
away  with  precisely  the  same  impressions  they 
brought  with  them.  It  must  be  that  the  greater 
part  of  readers  go  through  books  of  travel  in  the 
same  manner,  retaining  only  what  fits  in  comforta 
bly  with  old  prejudices.  There  is  no  other  way  of 
accounting  for  the  hold  that  certain  errors  in  regard 
to  Africa  have  on  the  public  mind.  We  constantly 
hear  it  said,  and  even  by  persons  who  are  not 
friends  to  slavery,  as  it  exists  here,  that  it  is  an 
immense  gain  for  negro  Africans  and  their  de 
scendants  to  be  in  the  service  of  civilized  men, 
rather  than,  as  they  might  have  been,  at  the 
mercy  of  Pagan  monsters.  Yet  all  the  world  has 
read  the  statements  which  travellers  of  the  high- 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  163 

est  reputation  have  made* in  regard  to  the  char 
acter  of  slavery  in  Africa,  and  the  laws  which 
regulate  it. 

44  The  slavery  of  African  to  African  is,  in  truth, 
the  mildest  form  of  serfdom.  It  is  not  unusual 
for  the  slave  to  call  the  master  '  My  father.' 
The  name  by  which  his  condition  is  denoted 
has  not  for  him  the  meaning  which  we  attach 
to  the  word  '  slave ' ;  for  it  implies  neither  degra 
dation  nor  hopelessness.  If  he  possess  more  than 
common  abilities,  these  are  allowed  free  scope.  The 
slave  is  sometimes  a  richer  man  than  his  master ;  he 
can  even  attain  to  high  office  in  the  state,  if  his 
talents  and  his  tastes  lead  him  in  that  direction.  If 
he  remain  a  humble  husbandman,  or  artisan,  or 
household-servant,  his  duties  are  light,  and  he  has 
no  fear  of  being  crushed  either  by  severity  or  con 
tempt. 

"  The  American  planter  owes,  I  believe,  more 
than  he  is  aware  to  the  view  of  the  relation  of 
master  and  slave  which  his  negro  has  inherited  from 
Africa.  The  unquestioning  acquiescence  of  the 
slave  in  his  lot,  his  absorption  in  the  family  on 
which  he  depends,  and  identification  of  its  interests 
with  his  own,  are  parts  of  a  very  old  creed.  The 
self-devotion,  which  has  more  of  the  spirit  of  clan 
ship  than  of  servility,  and  which  the  master  himself 
must  love  and  wonder  at,  is  traditional.  It  dates 


164  RECORD   OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

from  a  time  when  the  relation  of  superior  and  de 
pendant  was  endeared  by  the  sense  of  a  common 
blood  and  a  common  country.  It  does  not  belong 
to  a  temporary  and  uncertain  connection.  Yet 
these  principles  of  fidelity  and  trust  are  so  deeply 
implanted  in  the  heart  of  the  African  that  they  are 
capable  of  sustaining  very  rude  shocks.  Where 
they  have  been  met  by  anything  like  a  correspond 
ing  sense  of  duty  on  the  part  of  the  master,  above 
all,  where  they  have  been  fostered  by  a  true  Chris 
tian  love,  they  have  even  struck  new  and  deeper 
roots.  The  most  unworthy  master  has  still  his 
share  of  the  old  traditional  affection.  The  Afri 
can  slave,  even  after  long  experience  of  hardship,  is 
reluctant  to  believe  any  unmerited  privation  or  se 
verity  which  he  endures  is  inflicted  by  his  master. 
He  prefers  to  give  the  blame  to  a  subordinate. 
Even  when  his  master  is  the  direct  agent,  he  will 
ingly  supposes  him  to  have  been  misinformed  or 
misled  by  another.  On  the  remote  plantation, 
where  the  despotism  of  the  overseer  is  unrestricted, 
the  slaves  often  cling  to  the  belief,  that,  if  their 
wrongs  could  come  to  the  master's  knowledge, 
everything  would  be  set  right.  I  have  known  this 
illusion  maintained  under  circumstances  which 
made  it  seem  almost  miraculous. 

"  The  African  slave  in  America  has  not  only  a 
transmitted  loyalty,  but  likewise  an  inherited  sense 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  165 

of  rights  and  privileges.  Many  of  those  perverse 
notions  in  regard  to  right  and  wrong,  which,  as  the 
phrase  is,  '  cannot  be  got  out  of  his  head,'  are  frag 
ments  of  the  ancient  African  code.  As  he  expects 
to  suffer  for  the  reverses  of  his  superiors,  so  he  be 
lieves  he  has  a  prescriptive  right  to  ease  and  plenty 
in  their  prosperity ;  he  imagines  himself  to  have  a 
certain  property  in  the  property  of  his  master,  and 
thinks  he  can  take  some  liberties  with  it,  especially 
in  the  articles  of  meat  and  drink,  without  subject 
ing  himself  to  the  disgrace  of  dishonesty.  Above 
all,  he  is  firm  in  the  belief  that  the  sale  of  an  in 
nocent  man  is  unjust  and  unlawful.  Such  an  act, 
on  the  part  of  his  master,  is  a  stretch  of  authority 
which  he  cannot  be  made  to  comprehend,  and  which 
he  does  not  submit  to  without  remonstrance,  except 
when  he  has  been  brought  to  the  last  stage  of  apa 
thy,  or  when  hopelessness  gives  him  the  last  degree 
of  self-control.  When  a  great  calamity  involves 
the  master  and  his  dependants  in  the  same  ruin, 
they  accept  the  sentence  of  separation  as  the  de 
cree  of  Fate,  and  grieve  for  him  even  more  than 
for  themselves ;  but  in  other  cases  they  protest, 
openly  or  secretly.  Whatever  outward  appearance 
there  may  be  of  submission,  the  mother  never  con 
sents  to  the  sale  of  her  children ;  never  forgets  it ; 
her  forgiveness,  if  she  forgive,  is  a  sacrifice  made  to 
her  Heavenly  Master ;  the  service  she  thenceforth 


164  RECORD   OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

from  a  time  when  the  relation  of  superior  and  de 
pendant  was  endeared  by  the  sense  of  a  common 
blood  and  a  common  country.  It  does  not  belong 
to  a  temporary  and  uncertain  connection.  Yet 
these  principles  of  fidelity  and  trust  are  so  deeply 
implanted  'in  the  heart  of  the  African  that  they  are 
capable  of  sustaining  very  rude  shocks.  Where 
they  have  been  met  by  anything  like  a  correspond 
ing  sense  of  duty  on  the  part  of  the  master,  above 
all,  where  they  have  been  fostered  by  a  true  Chris 
tian  love,  they  have  even  struck  new  and  deeper 
roots.  The  most  unworthy  master  has  still  his 
share  of  the  old  traditional  affection.  The  Afri 
can  slave,  even  after  long  experience  of  hardship,  is 
reluctant  to  believe  any  unmerited  privation  or  se 
verity  which  he  endures  is  inflicted  by  his  master. 
He  prefers  to  give  the  blame  to  a  subordinate. 
Even  when  his  master  is  the  direct  agent,  he  will 
ingly  supposes  him  to  have  been  misinformed  or 
misled  by  another.  On  the  remote  plantation, 
where  the  despotism  of  the  overseer  is  unrestricted, 
the  slaves  often  cling  to  the  belief,  that,  if  their 
wrongs  could  come  to  the  master's  knowledge, 
everything  would  be  set  right.  I  have  known  this 
illusion  maintained  under  circumstances  which 
made  it  seem  almost  miraculous. 

"  The  African  slave  in  America  has  not  only  a 
transmitted  loyalty,  but  likewise  an  inherited  sense 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  165 

of  rights  and  privileges.  Many  of  those  perverse 
notions  in  regard  to  right  and  wrong,  which,  as  the 
phrase  is,  '  cannot  be  got  out  of  his  head,'  are  frag 
ments  of  the  ancient  African  code.  As  he  expects 
to  suffer  for  the  reverses  of  his  superiors,  so  he  be 
lieves  he  has  a  prescriptive  right  to  ease  and  plenty 
in  their  prosperity ;  he  imagines  himself  to  have  a 
certain  property  in  the  property  of  his  master,  and 
thinks  he  can  take  some  liberties  with  it,  especially 
in  the  articles  of  meat  and  drink,  without  subject 
ing  himself  to  the  disgrace  of  dishonesty.  Above 
all,  he  is  firm  in  the  belief  that  the  sale  of  an  in 
nocent  man  is  unjust  and  unlawful.  Such  an  act, 
on  the  part  of  his  master,  is  a  stretch  of  authority 
which  he  cannot  be  made  to  comprehend,  and  which 
he  does  not  submit  to  without  remonstrance,  except 
when  he  has  been  brought  to  the  last  stage  of  apa 
thy,  or  when  hopelessness  gives  him  the  last  degree 
of  self-control.  When  a  great  calamity  involves 
the  master  and  his  dependants  in  the  same  ruin, 
they  accept  the  sentence  of  separation  as  the  de 
cree  of  Fate,  and  grieve  for  him  even  more  than 
for  themselves ;  but  in  other  cases  they  protest, 
openly  or  secretly.  Whatever  outward  appearance 
there  may  be  of  submission,  the  mother  never  con 
sents  to  the  sale  of  her  children ;  never  forgets  it ; 
her  forgiveness,  if  she  forgive,  is  a  sacrifice  made  to 
her  Heavenly  Master ;  the  service  she  thenceforth 


166  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE   MAN. 

performs  is  not  so  much  a  duty  rendered  as  a  char 
ity  offered  for  the  love  of  God.  Too  often  she 
interweaves  with  her  daily  toil  the  black  thread 
which,  in  the  land  of  her  ancestors,  she  would  have 
had  power  to  work  into  the  web  of  her  master's 
fate,  but  which  here  can  probably  only  deepen  the 
darkness  of  her  own.  Such  is  not,  however,  the 
belief  of  our  Africans ;  in  their  faith,  the  maledic 
tion  of  the  wronged  has  still  its  old  power. 

"  Not  only  the  prejudices  and  superstitions  of  the 
Africans,  but  also  some  of  their  peculiar  virtues 
have  clung  to  them  in  their  exile.  They  are  still 
'very  charitable,'  as  Ca  da  Mosto  described  them 
not  many  years  after  they  were  discovered  by  the 
Portuguese  ;  they  are  still  '  gentle  and  loving,'  as 
Welsh  found  them  a  century  later ;  they  are  tender 
to  children  ;  their  filial  piety  —  a  virtue  nowhere 
carried  farther  than  in  Africa  —  is  admirable. 

"  What  painful  questions  we  are  forced  to  ask 
ourselves,  when  we  see  the  constancy  of  these 
traits  in  the  negro !  Have  his  native  qualities 
been  fostered  by  us  and  developed  into  higher  and 
more  enlightened  virtues  ?  Is  the  mother  aided 
to  train  up  her  son  to  truth  and  courage  by  the 
hope  of  rejoicing  in  his  noble  manhood?  Is  the 
son  strengthened  in  virtue  by  the  ambition  of  be 
coming  the  prop  and  pride  of  his  father's  old 
age?  Are  not  these  dear  affections  often  for  this 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  167 

kindly  people  the  source  of  the  keenest  sorrows  and 
anxieties  our  nature  can  know  ? 

"  What  have  the  African  serfs  and  their  descend 
ants  gained  in  exchanging  a  Pagan  patron  for  a 
Christian  master  ?  A  certain  number  of  them  have 
gained  what  they  would  not  harter  for  ease  and  en 
joyment.  Those  who,  in  their  captivity,  have  '  re 
ceived  the  spirit  of  adoption  whereby  they  cry 
Abba,  Father,'  no  longer  rely  on  an  earthly  pro 
tection.  But  was  the  ruin  of  those  millions  neces 
sary  to  the  redemption  of  these  hundreds  ?  Must 
we  think  so  basely  of  our  own  race  as  to  believe 
that  it  demands  this  fearful  compensation  for  im 
parting  that  which  it  has  itself  obtained  without 
money  and  without  price? 

"  A  few  words  more  in  regard  to  the  charge  of 
cannibalism  which  is  so  often  brought  up  against 
Africa.  I  gave  you  Robertson's  opinion  on  this 
subject,  and  Tuckey's.  I  might  have  told  you  that 
this  charge  was  contradicted,  more  than  a  century 
ago,  by  Doctor  Atkins,  a  surgeon  in  the  British 
navy,  an  intelligent  and  well-educated  man.  He 
took  some  pains  to  inquire  into  the  evidence  on  this 
point,  and  satisfied  himself  that  the  worst  anthro 
pophagi  in  Africa  were  the  mosquitoes.  He  found 
that  injurious  reports  often  had  their  origin  in  the 
fears  of  the  European  sailors,  who  had  the  hab- 


168  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

it  of  giving  a  reputation  for  man-eating  to  places 
which  they  wished  to  avoid,  because  they  had  rea 
son  to  dread  the  vengeance  of  the  inhabitants.  In 
some  instances,  the  cruelty  and  treachery  of  the 
Europeans  had  provoked  reprisals  on  the  part  of 
the  natives,  and  this  had  furnished  quite  sufficient 
ground  for  a  charge  of  cannibalism.  The  inhabi 
tants  of  Cape  Saint  Mary,  who  then  lay  under  this 
accusation,  proved,  he  says,  to  be  a  gentle  and  civil 
people,  who  supplied  them  with  firewood  for  their 
vessel. 

"  A  suspicion  of  dreadful  practices  has  sometimes 
been  suggested  by  incidents  or  expressions  which, 
when  examined  into,  are  not  found  to  imply  any 
thing  very  atrocious.  It  is  easy  to  misapprehend 
the  usages  and  figures  of  speech  of  a  people  whose 
manners  and  language  are  so  utterly  foreign  to  the 
observer. 

"  Among  the  kind  civilities  offered  by  the  king 
of  the  Fulahs  to  Briie,  Director  of  the  Senegal 
Company,  Labat  mentions  this  singular  attention: 
4  The  king  sent  him  a  young  slave  for  his  supper.' 
Happily,  the  explanation  is  immediately  given  :  c  It 
is  not  to  be  supposed  this  young  man  was  boiled  or 
roasted ;  he  was  alive  and  well.  It  was  a  galanterie 
the  king  made  to  the  general ;  he  simply  wished  to 
let  him  know  that  the  slave  was  sent  as  a  pure  gift. 
For,  inasmuch  as  what  is  eaten  is  not  paid  for,  it 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  169 

would  be  discourtesy  to  accept  a  return  for  what 
has  been  given  under  the  name  of  food.'  Imagine 
a  traveller  as  yet  unversed  in  the  terms  of  African 
politeness  receiving  a  galanterie  of  this  sort  on  his 
first  presentation  at  court! 

"  The  custom,  which  exists  in  some  parts  of  Afri 
ca,  of  exposing  the  bodies  of  malefactors,  has  some 
times  led  travellers  to  give  credit  to  reports  of  can 
nibalism,  It  must  be  unpleasant  to  a  civilized  man 
to  come  unexpectedly  on  a  heap  of  human  bones, 
or  a  suspended  skeleton.  No  wonder  such  a  spec 
tacle  excites  strange  fears.  But  we  must  remember 
that  it  is  only  very  lately  that  Europeans  have  had 
a  right  to  be  astonished  at  it.  It  was  not  an  Af 
rican,  but  an  English  mother,  who,  going  to  her 
work,  left  her  children  under  the  gallows  where  her 
husband's  body  was  hanging,  '  to  play  in  the  care 
of  their  father.' 

"  It  has  been  urged  that  African  nations  have  ac 
cused  each  other  of  cannibalism.  So  have  Euro 
pean.  Mr.  James  Lancaster,  captain  of  a  tall  ship 
which  took  him  to  Zanzibar  in  1591,  was  informed 
by  the  people  there  of  the  '  false  and  spiteful  dealing 
of  the  Portugals,  which  made  them  believe  that  we 
were  cruel  people  and  men-eaters,  and  willed  them, 
if  they  loved  their  safetie,  in  no  case  to  come  neere 
us.  This  they  did  to  cut  us  off  from  all  knowl 
edge  of  the  state  and  traffique  of  the  country.' 


170  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

"  Certain  expressions  in  the  war-songs  of  some 
African  peoples  have  been  received  as  proof  of  the 
presence  of  cannibals  among  them.  There  is  as 
good  or  better  evidence  that  Richard  the  First  of 
England  supped  on  a  Saracen.  The  minstrel  who 
records  this  feast  makes  Richard  boast, — 

" '  We  shall  never  die  for  default, 
While  we  may  in  any  assault 
Slee  Saracens,  the  flesh  may  take, 
And  seethen  and  rosten  and  do  hem  bake. 
With  one  Saracen  I  may  feed 
Well  a  nine  or  a  ten 
Of  my  good  Christian  men. 
King  Richard  shall  warrant 
There  is  no  flesh  so  nourissant 
Unto  an  English  man, 
Partridge,  plover,  heron  ne  swan, 
Cow  ne  ox,  sheep  ne  swine, 
As  the  head  of  a  Sarazyn. 
There  he  is,  fat  and  thereto  tender, 
And  my  men  be  lean  and  slender. 
While  any  Saracen  quick  be 
Livand  now  in  this  Syrie, 
For  meat  will  we  nothing  care ; 
Abouten  fast  we  shall  fare, 
And  every  day  we  shall  eat 
All  so  many  as  we  may  get. 
To  England  will  we  nought  gon 
Till  they  be  eaten  every  one.' 

"  I  doubt  whether  African  minstrelsy,  ancient  or 
modern,  can  furnish  anything  much  more  to  the 
purpose  than  this. 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  171 

"  I  want  to  engage  you  to  read  accounts  of  Afri 
ca  in  the  same  spirit  in  which  you  read  accounts  of 
other  countries,  —  to  divest  yourself  of  the  feeling 
that  its  inhabitants  are  not  of  a  like  nature  with 
ourselves.  And  do  not  accept  blindly  whatever 
your  author  gives  you.  Take  into  consideration, 
as  you  would  in  other  cases,  his  character,  his  edu 
cation,  and  especially  his  prejudices,  whether  of 
nationality  or  station  or  profession.  We  have  need 
here  of  a  more  than  common  candor  and  caution. 
In  forming  our  judgments  of  other  countries,  we 
have  access  to  a  vast  amount  and  variety  of  tes 
timony,  their  own  not  being  excluded.  But  Africa 
is  not  yet  capable  of  speaking  for  herself,  or,  at 
least,  we  are  not  yet  capable  of  listening  to  her. 

"  It  is  surprising  how  little  resemblance  there  is 
between  a  people's  own  sketches  of  itself  and  its 
portrait  as  drawn  by  a  stranger. 

"  Read  this  account  of  a  people  whom  Careri, 
the  Italian  traveller,  visited  in  1686  :  — 

" '  The  commonalty  are  rude  and  cruel,  addicted 
to  thieving  and  robbing,  faithless,  headstrong,  in 
clined  to  strife  and  mutiny,  gluttonous,  and  super- 
stitiously  addicted  to  the  predictions  of  foolish  as 
trologers  ;  in  short,  of  a  very  extravagant  temper, 
delighting  in  the  noise  of  guns,  drums,  and  bells,  as 
if  it  were  some  sweet  harmony.  ...  As  for  drunk 
enness,  they  delight  in  it  so  much,  that,  though  they 


172  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

own  it  to  be  a  great  fault  in  their  nation,  yet  they 
never  endeavor  to  refrain.' 

"  What  unpleasant  barbarians  are  these  ?  They 
are  a  people  inhabiting  the  southern  part  of  an 
island  lying  west  of  the  continent  of  Europe. 
They  are  called  the  English  people. 

"  Careri  relates,  further,  that  they  have  a  great 
taste  for  '  playing  the  pirate ' :  '  They  are  so  fond 
of  this  infamous  gain,  that  many  sell  all  they  have 
to  buy  a  ship  and  set  out  a-robbing.' 

"  They  are  so  courageous,  and  despise  death  so 
madly,  that  Careri  infers,  '  They  can  have  no 
good  notion  of  the  immortality  of  the  soul,  the 
knowledge  whereof  causes  strong  apprehension 
even  in  the  bravest  souls.' 

"It  is  not  only  on  the  battle-field  that  they  show 
their  contempt  of  death  :  '  You  may  see  a  man  con 
demned  to  be  hanged  go  to  the  gallows  as  if  it 
were  to  a  wedding,  and  his  nearest  kindred  pull 
him  by  the  heels  with  the  greatest  indifference 
in  the  world.' 

"  The  men  of  superior  condition  seem,  if  more 
refined  than  the  commonalty,  to  be,  in  their  way, 
almost  as  unamiable :  4  The  gentry  are  courteous 
and  generous  to  strangers,  and,  to  say  the  truth, 
vie  with  the  French  in  this  particular ;  but  they 
are  not  so  open-hearted,  nor  their  countenances  so 
affable  and  affectionate  to  others;  for  they  rather 


RECOED  OF  AN   OBSCURE  MAN.  173 

appear  proud  and  haughty  than  otherwise.  What  I 
much  admire  is,  that,  if  a  man  converses  with  them 
modestly  and  humbly,  they  do  not  look  upon  it  as 
civility  and  good-breeding,  but  as  meanness  of  spirit, 
and  therefore  they  undervalue  him,  though  they 
would  have  all  to  submit  to  them.  They  are  fond 
of  titles  and  other  marks  of  honor,  and  oblige  their 
many  servants  to  attend  them  in  very  servile  man 
ner.' 

"  Careri  allows  this  people  all  the  merit  he  can. 
Although  it  might  reasonably  be  inferred,  he  says, 
from  their  excessive  eating  and  drinking,  that  they 
are  stupid  and  dull,  yet  it  is  quite  otherwise :  '  For, 
besides  their  being  extraordinary  sharp  traders,  they 
improve  wonderfully  in  all  sciences  whatsoever ;  so 
that  Nature  seems  to  have  given  them  this  to  bal 
ance  all  their  vices.' 

"  Careri's  opinion  of  the  England  of  the  seven 
teenth  century  will  not,  probably,  have  much  in 
fluence  on  yours.  For  this  England  is  your  Eng 
land.  Your  own  ancestors  were,  perhaps,  among 
those  gentlemen  whose  manly  bearing  he  mistook 
for  haughtiness,  or  those  stout  yeomen  whose  robust 
appetite  he  stigmatized  as  gluttony.  You  know  that 
religious  faith  aided  the  British  soldier  to  meet  death 

o 

so  dauntlessly;  it  was  the  true  old  English  pluck, 
found  even  in  thieves,  that  made  those  condemned 
men  go  to  the  gallows  as  to  a  wedding. 


174  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

"  For  you,  Careri's  sketch  has  just  enough  of 
truth  to  make  it  delightfully  absurd ;  but  by  the 
greater  part  of  his  readers  on  the  continent  of  Eu 
rope  it  was,  no  doubt,  accepted  as  accurate.  And 
they  had  much  reason  to  confide  in  him  as  an  au 
thority.  He  was  a  man  of  capacity,  education,  and 
fortune,  travelling  solely  for  his  own  pleasure  and 
instruction.  His  account  of  England  was  origi 
nally  written  in  letters  to  an  intimate  friend.  He 
had  every  motive  for  being  impartial  and  exact: 
no  doubt,  he  believed  himself  to  have  been  so. 
His  other  travels  were  highly  esteemed,  in  their 
day,  by  the  English  themselves :  I  do  not  know 
how  satisfactory  they  may  have  been  to  the  peo 
ples  described  in  them. 

"  It  is  not  enough  that  a  traveller  is  sincere,  in 
telligent,  and  cultivated.  To  be  a  good  observer  of 
men,  he  must  likewise  possess  a  great  power  of  sym 
pathy  ;  otherwise,  seeing,  he  will  not  perceive  ;  and 
what  he  misses  may  be  precisely  what  is  most  char 
acteristic.  Travellers  in  Africa  have  more  than 
usual  need  to  be  largely  endowed  with  this  gift. 

"  Do  not  think  I  want  to  persuade  you  to  like 
everything  in  Africa.  I  only  want  you  to  have 
your  eyes  open  to  the  good  as  to  the  bad.  Africa  has 
its  fair  side,  as  the  most  privileged  lands  have  their 
dark  one.  Let  us  not  take  for  granted,  because 
some  wretched  sea-port  or  river-station,  for  centu- 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  175 

ries  a  den  of  men-thieves,  is  found  pestilent  with 
moral  and  physical  disease,  that  this  condemned 
spot  is  an  epitome  of  Africa.  I  do  not  call  in  ques 
tion  the  accuracy  of  the  descriptions  travellers  give 
us  of  such  places  as  Badagry,  Brass,  Bonny  Town, 
and  the  rest ;  nor  do  I  ask  you  to  feel  anything  but 
horror  of  them.  I  give  you  leave  to  dislike  base 
manners  and  deadly  climate  wherever  they  are 
found.  I  shall  not  expect  you,  for  example,  to 
envy  travelling-experiences  like  the  following,  or 
to  feel  a  desire  to  emigrate  to  the  country  which 
was  the  scene  of  them  :  — 

" 4  The  inn  at  which  we  lodged  was  the  best  in 
the  town,  and  yet  was  such  a  disgusting  place  that 
it  was  a  punishment  to  live  in  it.  Everything  was 
filthy.  Putrid  water  was  served  in  dirty  vessels. 
Swarms  of  flies  settled  on  the  meats,  which  were 
seasoned  with  rancid  oil.  During  the  day  we  were 
harassed  by  mosquitoes  and  gnats  from  the  marshes, 
which  covered  us  with  their  painful  stings,  and  at 
night  we  were  devoured  by  other  insects,  equally 
tormenting  and  far  more  disgusting. 

"  '  Fever  and  death  are  brought  into  the  town  by 
putrid  miasmata  from  the  fens  and  lagoons.  ...  It 
is  especially  in  the  month  of  August  that  the  fever 
rages.  During  that  month,  the  sound  of  the  fu 
neral-bell  is  heard  incessantly.  A  young  man  who 
waited  on  us  had  lost,  in  a  single  day,  his  grand- 


176  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

mother,  mother,  and  aunt.  .  .  .  The  livid  com 
plexions,  hollow  cheeks,  and  sunken  eyes  of  men 
whom  we  met  in  the  streets  made  us  feel  as  if  we 
were  within  the  inclosure  of  a  great  hospital  whose 
patients  had  obtained  permission  to  take  a  walk.' 

"  Am  I  reading  of  '  The  White  Man's  Grave '  ? 
you  ask,  perhaps.  No:  of  La  belle  France, — of  that 
part  of  it  which  is  most  rich  in  historical  and  poeti 
cal  associations.  You  have  been  reading  of  Pro 
vence.  The  wretched  town  which  can  offer  only 
putrid  water  to  its  guests  attracts  them  by  the  re 
mains  of  magnificent  aqueducts.  The  marshes  and 
ponds  which  sicken  it  with  noxious  exhalations 
occupy  the  place  of  the  fine  port  which  received 
three  hundred  vessels  after  the  Battle  of  Actium. 
It  is  Frejus,  the  ancient  Forum  Julii,  the  birth 
place  of  Agricola.  No  prejudiced  foreigner  drew 
that  dismal  picture,  but  a  patriotic  Frenchman, 
who  was  preparing  for  more  distant  travel  by  mak 
ing  himself  acquainted  with  his  own  country,  —  M. 
Millin,  a  member  of  the  Institute,  and  already  at 
that  time  (1805)  one  of  the  most  distinguished 
scholars  of  France. 

44  It  is  possible  thus  to  retrograde  in  the  very 
heart  of  civilization.  The  region  so  blighted  by 
infection  is,  according  to  M.  Millin,  the  most  fertile 
in  Provence,  — '  a  true  land  of  promise.'  '  The  in 
habitants,'  he  says,  4  do  nothing  to  avert  the  evils 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  177 

by  which  they  are  assailed ;  they  seem  to  be  wait 
ing  for  a  miracle  from  Providence.' 

" '  How  humiliated  ought  the  people  of  this  coun 
try  to  be,' — I  am  still  quoting  M.  Millin, —  'having 
always  before  their  eyes  the  remains  of  the  great 
works  of  the  Romans !  These  masters  of  the  world, 
recognizing  the  advantages  possessed  by  Frejus,  in 
its  mild  climate  and  happy  situation,  resolved  to 
found  a  great  establishment  there.  They  erected 
a  mole  to  protect  the  port,  spacious  magazines  to 
hold  provisions,  a  vast  aqueduct  to  bring  in  pure 
water,  large  reservoirs  to  receive  it.  The  inhabi 
tants  of  a  place  otherwise  so  favored  by  Nature 
have  let  these  fine  constructions  perish:  it  would 
have  been  easy  to  restore  the  canals  built  by  the 
Romans ;  a  premature  death  has  carried  off  in  ten 
years  more  people  than  would  have  been  sufficient 
to  execute  these  works ;  and  yet  no  one  has  thought 
of  proposing  such  an  undertaking.' 

"  Frejus  is  not  the  only  city  of  Provence  con 
demned  to  breathe  poisoned  air  and  drink  tainted 
water.  In  many  other  towns  of  that  beautiful 
country,  the  same  neglect  is  visited  by  the  same 
penalty. 

"  And  how  is  it  with  the  character  of  the  men 
in  the  land  of  romance  ?  Indolent  it  would  seem 
they  must  be.  Is  their  supineness  compensated 
by  their  easy  temper  and  frank  kind-heartedness  ? 

12 


178  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

This  is  what  M.  Millin  has  to  say  of  them:  his 
is  not  precisely  the  ideal  Provencal  peasant :  — 

"  '  The  Provencal  peasants,  in  general,  are  not 
to  be  confided  in.  Those  of  the  neighborhood  of 
Toulon  are  particularly  ill-natured.  If  you  in 
quire  your  way  of  them,  they  do  not  answer,  or 
answer  only  to  mislead  you.  Be  sure  that  all  is 
right  with  your  carriage  and  harness,  for  you  need 
look  for  no  assistance  from  them.  If  they  see  you 
in  difficulty,  they  laugh  ;  if  you  are  in  danger,  they 
pass  on.  If  a  thirsty  traveller  should  gather  a 
bunch  of  grapes,  he  may  think  himself  fortunate, 
if  this  slight  indiscretion  do  not  draw  upon  him  a 
blow  with  a  stick  or  a  shot  from  a  musket.  Their 
cries  are  those  of  a  tiger  ;  their  vivacity  is  that  of 
rage.  Quarrels  arise  on  the  slightest  occasion. 
They  begin  with  abuse :  this  is  answered  by  a 
blow  with  a  stick,  or  a  thrust  with  a  knife,  which 
often  proves  mortal.  He  who  has  committed  the 
crime,  on  becoming  cool,  does  not  think  of  its  atro 
city,  but  of  its  consequences.  He  abandons  his 
victim,  whom  he  might  aid,  or  despatches  him  in 
order  to  be  safe  from  his  testimony.  He  then  takes 
refuge  in  the  valleys  of  Olioulles  or  in  the  woods 
of  Esterel,  and  lies  in  wait  for  the  traveller,  —  be 
ginning  with  robbery,  and  ending  an  assassin  by 
profession.' 

"  M.  Millin's  travels  were  widely  read  in  foreign 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  179 

countries ;  but  it  does  not  appear  that  France  has 
been  shunned  on  account  of  its  malignant  climate 
and  savage  people. 

"  It  has  not  been  suggested,  I  believe,  that  it 
would  be  wholesome  for  the  Provencal  peasant  to 
be  transported  into  foreign  servitude  and  taught  to 
be  useful,  or  at  least  harmless.  We  know,  in  part, 
the  causes  that  have  been  at  work  to  render  him 
distrustful,  resentful,  and  rebellious.  We  can  feel 
that  this  proud,  independent,  impetuous  character 
may  have  its  interesting  side.  We  are  glad  to 
know  that  its  harsher  features  have  already  soft 
ened,  and  we  trust  that  its  finer  traits  may  find  full 
opportunity  of  development. 

"  Let  us  be  hopeful  for  the  African.  At  least, 
inhospitality  and  ferocity  are  not  his  chief  char 
acteristics. 

"  Let  us  be  hopeful ;  but,  at  the  same  time,  let 
us  not  expect  too  much;  and  especially,  let  us 
not  make  up  our  minds  too  exactly  as  to  what 
we  ought  to  expect,  even  of  colonies  founded  un 
der  Anglo-Saxon  auspices  and  endowed  with  An 
glo-Saxon  institutions,  lest  disappointment  should 
again  make  us  unjust.  Young  nations,  like  young 
persons,  often  shock  the  judgment  and  wound  the 
taste  of  their  elders.  And  then,  all  the  world  as 
sumes  the  right  to  criticize  and  admonish.  The 
citizen  of  a  long-established  state,  who  does  one  of 


180  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

these  upstarts  the  honor  of  visiting  it,  to  inspect 
its  progress,  looks  down  upon  it  from  the  height  of 
his  national  dignity,  and  writes  of  it  condescending 
ly  or  scornfully,  according  to  his  temper.  In  either 
case,  all  its  little  weaknesses  are  sure  to  be  fully  re 
ported.  We  have  passed  through  this  ordeal.  I 
need  not  say  how  peculiarly  exposed  the  rising 
states  of  Africa  are  to  be  made  the  subjects  of  scru 
tiny  and  animadversion.  Knowing  what  the  way 
of  the  world  is  in  this  respect,  we  ought  not  to  al 
low  ourselves  to  be  too  much  impressed  by  unfavor 
able  reports.  It  should  not  surprise  or  dishearten 
the.  friends  of  free  institutions  to  meet  with  such 
an  account  as  this  of  the  Representative  Assembly 
of  a  young  republic  :  — 

"  '  Attending  the  debates  on  a  day  when  a  sub 
ject  of  consequence  was  to  be  discussed,  I  left  the 
House  full  of  contempt  for  its  eloquence  and  the 
paucity  of  talent  employed  for  the  support  or  con 
sideration  of  the  question.  Notwithstanding  this, 
I  read  in  the  next  morning's  gazette  that  "  a  debate 
took  place  in  the  House  last  night  of  the  most  in 
teresting  nature,  and  that  it  was  agitated  by  all 
the  talent  of  the  country,  —  particularly  by  Messrs. 

and  ,  whose   brilliant  speeches   we 

lay  before  the  public."  Here  followed  certainly 
eloquent  orations,  a  sentence  of  which  never  passed 
in  the  House.  .  .  .  The  Congress  is  a  violent,  vul- 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  181 

gar  assembly,  and  the  public  newspapers  are  con 
ducted  by  foreign  editors,  who  amplify  such  debates 
and  give  them  something  of  a  polished  and  inter 
esting  character.' 

"Is  this  an  account  of  the  Congress  of  Liberia? 
It  is  an  account  of  the  Congress  of  the  United 
States  in  1806,  given  by  an  English  traveller,  — 
Thomas  Ashe,  Esquire,  —  who  in  that  year  visited 
'  the  civilized  parts '  of  America,  and  went  home 
with  a  great  respect  for  the  natural  resources  of 
the  country  and  a  great  contempt  for  its  inhabi 
tants.  '  Alas  ! '  he  exclaims,  after  expatiating  on 
the  '  riches  yielded  by  its  soil,'  c  it  may  be  said  with 
the  greatest  truth,  —  "  Man  is  the  only  growth  that 
dwindles  here." 

"  Ashe's  observations  on  the  United  States,  like 
Careri's  on  England,  were  written  in  the  form  of 
letters  to  a  friend.  '  His  researches  cannot  fail,' 
according  to  one  of  his  countrymen,  '  to  interest 
and  inform  the  politician,  the  statesman,  the  phi 
losopher,  and  the  antiquary.'  One  of  his  greatest 
merits,  it  seems,  was  that  he  exposed  '  the  delusions 
that  have  been  held  up  by  fanciful  or  partial  writers 
as  to  the  country,  by  which  so  many  individuals 
have  been  misled.'  It  certainly  was  not  Mr.  Ashe's 
fault,  if  any  of  his  countrymen  continued  to  be  mis 
led  by  delusions  favorable  to  the  United  States,  or 
the  political  principles  in  vogue  there,  —  principles 


182  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

which,  in  his  opinion,  '  are  not  only  adverse  to 
the  enjoyment  of  practical  liberty,  and  to  the  ex 
istence  of  regular  authority,  but  destructive  also  of 
comfort  and  security  in  every  class  of  society.' 

"  Mr.  Ashe's  first  letter  is  from  Pittsburg, 
Pennsylvania.  He  does  not  write  from  the  North 
ern  States,  because  they  are  4  unworthy  the  obser 
vation  '  of  his  correspondent.  '  The  Middle  States 
are  less  contemptible.  They  produce  grain  for  ex 
portation.  .  .  .  The  national  features  here  are  not 
strong,  and  those  of  different  emigrants  have  not  yet 
composed  a  face  of  local  deformity.'  He  even  finds 
some  tolerable  society  at  Pittsburg.  The  influence 
of  a  number  of  Irish  families  who  had  settled  there 
4  had  been  favorable  to  the  town,'  and  had  c  hindered 
the  vicious  propensities  of  the  genuine  American 
character  from  establishing  here  the  horrid  domin 
ion  which  they  have  assumed  over  the  Atlantic 
States.' 

"  I  have  told  you  what  Mr.  Ashe  thought  of  our 
public  men  of  that  time.  4  The  Church,'  he  found, 
had  '  no  brighter  ornaments  than  the  State.'  He 
went  to  hear  a  preacher  who  had  '  the  highest  repu 
tation  as  a  divine  and  orator,  and  had  the  mortifica 
tion  to  hear  a  transposed  sermon  of  Blair,  delivered 
in  a  strain  of  dull  monotony.'  As  for  the  law,  he 
was  4  not  surprised  to  find  a  want  of  ability  and  elo 
quence  in  that  department.'  It  was  worse  still  with 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.       183 

medicine.  '  There  is  no  profession  in  America  so 
shamefully  neglected  as  that  of  physic,  or  more  des 
titute  of  able  practitioners.' 

"  I  must  be  just  to  Mr.  Ashe,  and  tell  you  that 
he  approves  of  the  women  of  the  United  States. 
'It  gives  me  great  pleasure,'  he  tells  his  friend, 
'  to  assure  you,  that,  when  I  expressed  the  supreme 
disgust  excited  in  me  by  the  people  of  the  United 
States,  the  ladies  were  by  no  means  included  in  the 
general  censure.' 

"  The  deterioration  of  the  men  of  the  United 
States  seems,  in  Mr.  Ashe's  view,  to  be  chiefly  at 
tributable  to  political  doctrines  prevalent  in  that 
country,  —  doctrines  whose  tendency  is,  according 
to  him,  '  to  make  men  turbulent  citizens,  aban 
doned  Christians,  inconstant  husbands,  and  treach 
erous  friends.' 

"  Political  prepossessions  could  thus  limit  the  sym 
pathies  and  warp  the  judgment  of  an  Englishman 
travelling  among  a  kindred  people.  What  allow 
ance,  in  reading  foreign  accounts  of  Africa,  ought 
we  not  to  make  for  the  influence  of  that  most  fatal 
prejudice  of  race ! 

"  It  was  from  books  like  Mr.  Ashe's  that  the  Eng 
lish  used  to  form  their  opinion  of  the  people  of  the 
United  States ;  so  that,  when  they  saw  a  well-bred 
American,  they  took  him  for  an  exception,  and  told 
him  he  might  almost  pass  for  an  Englishman.  I  do 


184  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

not  know  that  we  ever  lost  anything  in  our  own 
esteem  through  the  portraits  drawn  of  us  by  the 
English,  any  more  than  those  stout  islanders  have 
thought  the  worse  of  themselves  for  what  was  said 
of  them  on  the  Continent. 

"  This  innate  sense  of  worth  is  not  confined  to 
nations  who  have  so  undoubted  a  right  to  it  as  we 
and  our  cousins  of  England.  It  is  pleasant  to  know 
that  the  least-considered  peoples  have  as  comfortable 
a  sense  of  superiority  as  the  most  eminent.  When 
Carr  —  '  The  Stranger  in  Ireland  '  —  was  passing 
through  the  magnificent  scenery  in  the  neighbor 
hood  of  Killarney,  his  Irish  driver  turned  to  him 
with,  'Ah,  your  Honor,  here  are  glens  and  moun 
tains  !  If  you  had  those  in  your  country,  what  a 
fine  thing  it  would  be  for  the  robbers  and  murder 
ers  there  !  By  my  shoul,  they  are  here  of  no  use ! ' 
Carr's  English  pride  did  not  wholly  defend  him 
from  mortification.  He  took  some  pains  to  explain 
that  England  'had  glens  and  mountains  not  in 
fested  by  robbers  and  murderers.'  But  the  Irish 
man  only  shook  his  head  incredulously.  'I  found 
in  many  parts  of  Ireland,'  adds  Mr.  Carr,  '  the  same 
unfortunate  and  unpleasant  prejudice.' 

"The  Anglo-Saxon  becomes  sensitive  even  to 
African  opinion,  when  he  finds  himself  alone  with 
it.  In  truth,  it  is  startling  to  see  how  completely 
the  tables  are  turned  upon  the  white  man  in  the 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.       185 

country  of  the  blacks.  Wherever  he  goes,  he  is 
obliged,  in  a  manner,  to  apologize  for  his  skin.  For 
the  natives  are  not  only  insensible  to  its  beauty,  but 
they  actually  have  a  notion  that  the  faded  hue  is  the 
sign  of  an  impoverished  stock  and  argues  a  lack  of 
the  higher  moral  qualities.  In  fact,  the  white  man 
has  to  earn  a  reputation  for  himself  by  respectable 
conduct,  before  the  testimony  borne  against  him  by 
his  complexion  can  be  disallowed. 

"  When  a  white  man  shows  himself,  for  the  first 
time,  unexpectedly  in  an  African  village,  the  wom 
en  run,  screaming,  to  hide  their  children.  After 
the  inoffensiveness  of  the  stranger  has  been  estab 
lished  by  his  quiet  demeanor  and  the  testimony  of 
his  black  attendants,  the  people  begin  to  approach, 
look  at  him  with  wonder,  venture  at  last  to  touch 
his  hair  gently,  and  then  report  to  those  who 
have  not  yet  dared  to  come  so  near,  —  'It  is  not  a 
man ;  it  has  a  mane ! '  The  greatest  compliment 
that  can  be  paid  to  a  white  man  who  has  given 
proof  of  his  intrinsic  good  qualities  is  to  tell  him 
that  he  '  deserves  to  be  black.' 

"  It  is  in  the  countries  in  which  Mahometanism 
has  established  itself  that  the  white  color  is  seen 
with  the  most  distrust,  because  it  is  associated  with 
the  Christians,  '  the  men  who  never  pray  and  who 
eat  swine's  flesh.'  Even  the  intermediate  races  see 
the  pallid  hue  of  the  European  with  dislike,  and  as- 


186  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

sociate  it  with  evil.  'Are  the  Jews  as  white  as 
you?'  a  Dugganah  chief  asked  a  fair-complexioned 
Englishman. — c  No,  much  darker.' — '  Really!  they 
are  a  very  bad  people.  I  thought  they  were  quite 
white.'  A  gentle-hearted  Shoua  woman  felt  im 
pelled  to  soften  by  her  compassion  the  misfortune 
of  one  of  these  ill-favored  strangers :  — '  We  are  so 
sorry  for  you  that  you  are  white ! ' 

"  You  must  not  suppose  that  the  peculiarities  of 
the  foreigner  are,  with  the  natives,  a  reason  for  ill- 
treating  him.     It  is  rare  —  most  rare  in  Pagan  Af 
rica  —  that  the  stranger  meets  with  insult  or  injury, 
unless  he  provoke  it  by  his  own  conduct.     If  his 
deportment  be  reasonably  discreet,  he  is  easily  rec 
ognized  as  a  fellow-being.     If  he  arrive  as  the  king's 
stranger,  that   is,  having  duly  announced  his  visit 
beforehand  to  the  king  or  chief,  and  obtained  per 
mission  to  make  it,  and  if,  after  his  arrival,  he  pay 
such   conformity  to   the  customs   and  laws  of  the 
country  as  he  would  be  obliged  to  do  in  Europe  or 
the   United   States,  he   is   sure  of  hospitality  and 
kindness.      In    the    countries    which   have   become 
thoroughly  Mahometanized,  it  is  probable  that  re 
gard  for  the   Christian  never  goes   much   beyond 
the    humanity    and    courtesy    due    to   a    stranger. 
But  among  the    Pagan  peoples,   the  guest,  if  he 
prove  upright  and  gentlemanly,   is   soon  admitted 
to   esteem,   and,   should   he   remain   long   enough, 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  187 

may  even  become  an  object  of  affection  and  admi 
ration. 

"  Here  let  me  interrupt  myself  to  tell  you,  that, 
in  what  I  have  said  of  the  character  of  the  Afri 
cans  and  their  institutions,  I  have  had  in  view  on 
ly  the  black  nations  of  Africa.  The  inhabitants 
of  the  northern  and  northeastern  parts,  and  those 
of  the  extreme  south,  have  not,  therefore,  been 
in  question.  Nor  have  I  meant  to  include  the 
Moorish  and  Berber  peoples  who  inhabit  or  in 
fest  the  northern  part  of  Negroland.  Nothing 
of  all  that  I  have  said  of  the  amiable  qualities 
of  the  black  Africans,  of  the  happy  condition  of 
their  serfs,  of  the  security  in  which  foreigners 
can  travel  among  them,  applies  to  the  Moors 
and  Berbers.  The  character  of  the  Moors  seems 
to  be,  in  almost  every  respect,  the  opposite  of  that 
of  the  negro.  Park,  who  suffered  captivity  among 
the  Moors,  says,  '  They  are  a  people  who  study 
mischief  as  a  science,  and  exult  in  the  miseries 
and  misfortunes  of  their  fellow-creatures.'  Other 
travellers  give  them  no  better  reputation.  Let 
me  ask  you,  when  you  are  reading  accounts  of 
Africa,  to  bear  in  mind  the  distinction,  and  not 
to  make  the  negro  Africans  responsible  for  acts 
of  treachery  and  violence  committed  by  Moors, 
or  Berbers,  or  Arabs.  Whenever?  in  this  jour 
nal,  I  say  4  the  Africans,'  without  more,  you  will 


188  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

understand  that  I  mean  the  true  sons  of  Africa, 
the  black  men. 

"  The  dislike  and  apprehension  with  which  the 
white  man  is  regarded  in  Africa  are,  unhappily, 
but  too  well  founded.  These  feelings  are  undoubt 
edly  strengthened,  among  the  Mahometan  nations, 
by  religious  zeal ;  bat  it  is  not  in  bigotry  that  they 
have  had  their  origin  ;  nor  need  we  look  for  it  in 
natural  antipathy.  The  Christians  very  early  made 
for  themselves  an  evil  reputation  in  Africa.  When 
Ca  da  Mosto  entered  the  Gambia,  not  a  quarter 
of  a  century  after  the  Portuguese  first  surmounted 
the  dangers  of  Cape  Bojador,  the  natives  of  the 
country  refused  to  have  anything  to  do  with  him. 
It  was  in  vain  that  he  invited  them  4  to  come  peace 
ably  and  lovingly  and  take  what  goods  they  chose, 
giving  what  they  liked  in  return,  or  even  to  take 
them  for  nothing.'  They  answered,  that  '  they  had 
already  some  knowledge  of  the  Christians,  and  had 
heard  of  their  dealings  on  the  Senegal ;  that  those 
must  be  very  wicked  people  who  could  enter  into 
friendship  with  them,  since  it  was  well  understood 
that  they  were  men-eaters,  who  bought  black  peo 
ple  to  devour  them.'  The  Portuguese  had  already 
at  that  time,  according  to  Ca  da  Mosto,  established 
a  regular  slave-trade ;  they  had  a  de*pot  on  the 
island  of  Argmim,  from  which  seven  or  eight  hun 
dred  slaves  were  annually  shipped  for  Portugal. 


RECORD  OF  Atf  OBSCURE  MAN.       189 

From  the  time  of  their  first  appearance  on  the  Af 
rican  coast,  the  white  men  had  been  the  scourge  of 
the  country,  making  continual  descents  by  day  and 
by  night,  and  seizing  the  inhabitants  whom  they 
found  at  their  peaceful  occupations  or  sleeping  in 
supposed  security.  After  the  Portuguese,  came 
other  of  the  principal  Christian  nations  in  turn, 
vying  with  them  and  with  each  other  in  acts  of 
perfidy  and  cruelty.  The  fame  of  these  ghastly 
ogres,  first  of  their  fitful  atrocities,  and  afterwards 
of  their  more  systematic  villany,  spread  through  the 
country ;  century  after  century  passed,  and  still  the 
tales  of  horror  that  went  from  the  coast  inland 
only  multiplied  and  deepened.  Is  it  to  be  won 
dered  at  that  the  people  of  the  interior  of  Africa 
shrink  from  these  white  strangers,  whom  they  have 
heard  of  only  as  chief  actors  in  scenes  of  violence 
or  baseness  ?  Is  it  not  rather  matter  of  surprise 
and  admiration  that  they  should  still  be  able  to 
judge  the  Christian  with  candor,  and  to  lay  aside, 
upon  good  cause  shown,  a  distrust  which  it  would 
be  unjust  to  call  a  prejudice? 

"England  —  whose  wrong-doing  we  must  grieve 
over  as  our  own  —  has  had  its  own  share  of  guilt 
towards  Africa.  But,  at  least,  it  has  been  foremost 
in  the  work  of  atonement. 

"It  is  cheering  to  find  that  Englishmen  are  al 
ready  making  a  better  reputation  for  the  white  man 


190  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

in  Africa.  The  report  of  their  efforts  to  suppress 
the  slave-trade,  and  to  establish  an  honest  com 
merce  in  its  place,  has  already  penetrated  the  coun 
try  in  many  directions.  Not  only  is  the  Pagan  won 
to  them,  but  even  the  Mahometan  is  forced  into  re 
spect  for  consistent  Christians.  '  You  are  an  Eng 
lishman  ;  it  is  enough.  Englishmen  are  of  one 
word.'  This  assurance  of  confidence  was  given  to 
an  English  traveller  by  a  Tibboo  trader.  4  You 
are  a  beautiful  people,'  the  Felatah  Sultan  ex 
claimed,  when  Clapperton  told  him  that  no  slave 
could  set  foot  on  English  soil. 

"  The  influence  of  the  new  system  of  conduct 
adopted  by  the  English  towards  the  natives  was 
seen  in  the  reception  given  to  Laing  by  the  Kuran- 
kos  and  Sulimas,  which  was  marked  by  something 
more  than  the  benevolence  that  a  well-conducted 
traveller  is  almost  sure  of  among  the  Africans.  His 
fame  had  gone  before  him,  as  the  envoy  of  a  power 
ful  and  just  people,  about  to  propose  a  reciprocity 
of  kind  offices,  and  the  opening  of  a  commerce 
honorable  and  profitable  on  both  sides. 

"  We  are  now  sharing  with  England  in  the  great 
work  of  redemption,  which  I  hope  will  be  carried 
on  with  a  generous  rivalry.  But  it  will  be  long 
before  we  see  all  the  results  we  wish.  Against 
centuries  of  depravation,  a  few  years  of  feeble  and 
imperfect  atonement !  It  becomes  us  to  be  patient. 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  191 

"  What  a  contrast  there  is  between  the  work 
which  true  Christians  now  propose  to  themselves 
in  Africa  and  that  which  has  been  carried  on  there 
for  nearly  four  hundred  years  by  men  bearing  the 
name  !  When  we  read  of  the  dealings  of  the  two 
races  with  each  other,  where  they  have  come  in 
contact  on  African  soil,  we  are  forced  to  feel  that 
the  whites  are  the  savages,  reckless,  cunning,  fero 
cious,  and  destitute  even  of  the  natural  sense  of 
honor  seldom  wholly  wanting  in  the  rudest  barba 
rian;  while  the  blacks,  in  the  accounts  given  of 
them  by  their  very  betrayers  and  corrupters,  are 
found  hospitable,  compassionate,  courteous ;  they 
are  found  truthful,  too,  and  honest,  except  so  far 
as  they  have  learned  that  deception  is  a  part  of  the 
whites'  system  of  commerce,  and  that,  with  them, 
knavery  and  trading  are  synonymous. 

"  And  men  ask  how  it  is  that  the  Africans  have 
profited  so  little  by  an  intercourse  of  four  centuries 
with  civilized  and  Christian  nations !  " 


192  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 


VI. 

I  HAD  to  wait  for  Colvil's  plays  much  longer 
than  I  liked.  But  at  last  came  a  fair  copy  of  the 
first  scene  of  the  "  Tragedy  of  Errors."  For  some 
time  I  received  an  instalment  about  once  a  fort 
night.  Then  there  was  an  interval  of  silence  ;  and 
then,  instead  of  the  continuation  of  this  piece,  came 
some  scenes  of  a  Second  Part.  "  I  cannot  help  it," 
he  wrote  ;  "  this  claimed  me,  and  would  not  be  put 
off.  The  First  Part  is  already  safe  on  paper  ;  you 
are  sure  of  that ;  but  you  will  never  have  this,  un 
less  you  take  it  now."  I  saw  no  good  reason  why 
he  should  not  both  write  the  new  and  transcribe 
the  old.  I  believe  I  told  him  so,  and  that  it  was 
in  answer  to  this  reproach  that  he  wrote  to  me,  — 

"You  forget  that  I  am  not  a  student, — not  one 
of  those  happy  licensed  votaries  of  letters  who  go 
into  their  study  in  the  morning  and  close  the  door 
against  the  outer  world.  They  can  abandon  them 
selves  to  their  visions  while  the  hour  lasts,  and  turn 
to  some  piece  of  duty-work  when  the  imagination  is 


RECORD  OF  AST  OBSCURE  MAN.       193 

exhausted.  Active  labor  engrosses  me  from  the  ris 
ing  of  the  sun  to  its  going  down.  I  am  not  a  gen 
tleman  farmer,  who  has  men  under  him  better  ac 
quainted  with  his  business  than  he  is.  I  have  only 
hands  to  aid  me ;  mine  must  be  always  the  plan 
ning,  the  directing  head.  Nor  does  my  post  of 
general  director  exempt  me  from  attention  to  de 
tails.  I  must  be  constantly  on  the  alert.  Farmers 
are  subject  to  many  surprises  and  disconcerting  ac 
cidents.  When  I  have  counted  confidently  on  some 
hours  of  leisure,  a  gust  of  wind  or  an  unseasonable 
shower  has  robbed  me  of  them.  Our  labors  are  of 
the  most  varied  kind,  and  oppose  themselves  to  con 
tinuity  of  thought.  When  I  have  the  good  fortune 
to  be  held  for  some  hours  together  by  a  monotonous 
piece  of  work  which  leaves  my  mind  untaxed,  I 
seize  on  this  favorable  season  for  reflection  or  com 
position.  But  then  I  am  seldom  alone.  When 
my  visions  begin  to  throng  on  me,  they  are  often 
startled  by  the  very  real  voice  of  my  good  Hans. 
With  a  sigh  I  see  them  dissolve,  never  to  offer  them 
selves  again ;  for,  whatever  new  combinations  my 
kaleidoscope  may  present,  it  never  repeats  for  me 
precisely  the  same  forms.  I  cannot  put  off  my 
faithful  German.  He  does  not  surmise  that  I  am 
carrying  on  an  inward  work  at  the  same  time  with 
the  outward  one,  and  thinks  to  enliven  me  and 
himself  by  a  little  profitable  conversation.  I  should 
13 


194  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

wound  him,  if  I  repelled  him.  I  can  lighten  his 
labor  by  admitting  him  to  a  full  companionship ; 
I  should  make  it  bitter,  if  I  remained  wrapped  in 
my  own  thoughts  as  if  I  disdained  to  share  his. 
Then  his  sons  have  a  still  stronger  claim  on  me : 
they  are  young ;  I  am  their  instructor.  The  good 
boys  often  take  occasion,  in  our  common  labors,  to 
prove  to  me,  by  some  remark  or  apposite  question, 
the  accuracy  of  their  memory  or  the  interest  they 
feel  in  what  I  have  been  teaching  them.  Can  I 
hold  back  the  word  of  praise  which  makes  happy, 
or  the  explanation  that  furnishes  these  young  minds 
with  new  food  to  work  upon,  because,  in  giving  it, 
I  must  break  the  thread  of  my  own  ideas,  or  dis 
miss  the  spirits  who  were  beginning  to  obey  my 
call  ?  No,  —  I  must  not  sacrifice  the  small,  but 
certain  good,  to  a  doubtful  one. 

"  I  do  not  say  all  this  in  the  way  of  repining. 
You  know  that  I  count  my  lot  a  blessed  one.  The 
circumstances  in  which  I  am  placed,  though  they 
frustrate  my  intention  of  accomplishment,  do  not 
mar  my  happiness.  I  enjoy  even  the  hindrances 
I  complain  of.  As  soon  as  I  have  overcome  the 
first  disappointment,  I  take  real  pleasure  in  my 
conversations  with  honest,  pedantic  Hans.  My 
relation  to  his  boys  is  a  source  of  great  satisfac 
tion  to  me.  Whatever  is  mine  is,  I  believe,  trans 
figured  to  me.  My  poor  lands,  —  when  I  tried  to 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  195 

look  at  them  through  your  eyes,  I  saw  how  flat, 
how  rude,  how  uninteresting.  I  know  they  are 
not  so  productive  as  such  an  extent  of  ground 
ought  to  be.  I  have  sometimes  a  misgiving  that 
they  were  not  wisely  chosen.  Yet  there  is  that 
about  my  farm  that  I  would  not  willingly  change 
it  for  another. 

"  If  I  thought  the  places  in  which  the  lines 
are  fallen  to  me  pleasant  before,  how  doubly 
pleasant  are  they  now  that  your  idea  is  associated 
with  them!  My  room  is  still  your  room.  You 
tenant  it  with  me.  I  turn  to  you  to  claim  your 
sympathy  when  I  read,  your  counsel  when  I  write. 
I  teach  you  to  distinguish  the  notes  of  our  birds, 
to  call  by  name  the  wild-flowers  whose  successive 
opening  marks  the  passage  of  our  seasons.  My 
lonely  meditations  are  now  animated  discussions 
with  you.  My  mind  is  quickened  by  your  im 
agined  opposition  or  approval. 

"  I  live  little  in  the  future,  —  at  least,  in  my  own. 
I  have  not,  like  you,  in  every  day  a  new  lifetime. 
I  build  no  castles  in  the  air :  my  sphere  is  inex 
orably  marked  out.  But  the  hopes  of  the  world 
occupy  me  in  default  of  my  own.  I  long  for  a 
better  future  for  its  struggling,  and  still  more  for 
its  apathetic  millions.  The  destinies  of  races  in 
terest  me.  And  deep  in  my  heart  lives  and 
watches  a  desire  to  accomplish  something  while 


196  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

I  am  yet  on  earth.  But  this  latent  ambition  — 
if  it  be  ambition  —  is  not  of  the  force  to  drive  me 
into  enterprise.  I  content  myself  still  with  doing 
each  day  what  belongs  to  it,  —  trusting,  that,  if 
God  has  a  work  for  me  to  perform,  He  will  make 
it  consistent  with  the  dear  and  sacred  duties  He 
has  laid  on  me.  These  duties  hold  me  here  by 
the  couch  of  my  devoted  mother. 

"  All  this,  dear  friend,  in  answer  to  your  com 
passion,  to  your  eager  desire  to  see  me  in  a  position 
more  congenial  to  you  than  this  barren,  toilsome 
life  of  mine  would  be.  But  our  Author  has  fitted 
every  being  for  the  place  He  assigns  it.  You  are 
born  for  ease,  for  success.  You  have  a  confident, 
resolute  nature,  that  would  perhaps  rebel  under  suf 
fering,  but  can  deal  nobly  with  prosperity.  But 
do  not,  therefore,  pity  a  man  who  would  part  with 
his  sorrowful  recollections  even  less  willingly  than 
with  his  glad  ones,  and  to  whom  his  privations  are 
possessions." 

I  will  not  go  over  all  the  trials  my  patience  sus 
tained  in  waiting  on  the  leisure  and  the  moods  of  a 
farmer-poet.  I  will  not  enumerate  the  sowings  and 
reapings,  the  fellings  and  pilings,  the  accidents  by 
flood  and  drought,  that  conspired  with  all  the  name 
less  hindrances  of  a  working-man's  day  to  school 
my  impatience  and  damp  my  enthusiasm.  It  some 
times  seemed  to  me  that  Colvil  neglected  nothing, 


EECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  197 

postponed  nothing,  except  what  I  thought  most  im 
portant.  I  did  not  abandon  my  projects,  but  they 
ceased  to  engross  me.  I  resigned  myself  to  let  Fate 
and  my  friend  take  their  own  way,  meaning  to  take 
mine  as  soon  as  possession  gave  me  power.  In  the 
mean  time  I  contented  myself  with  Edward's  affec 
tion  and  his  correspondence,  and  learned  to  be  al 
most  as  well  pleased  when  I  received  only  a  proof 
of  his  remembrance,  in  some  hasty,  hardly  legible* 
lines,  or  a  critique  of  a  new  book,  or  a  disquisition 
on  some  subject  we  had  discussed  together,  as  when 
I  took  from  the  post  the  well-stuffed  envelope  which 
told  me,  before  I  opened  it,  that  it  held  what  was  to 
advance  me  towards  my  end. 

When  the  Second  Part  of  the  "  Tragedy  of  Er 
rors  "  was  at  last  safe  in  my  hands,  I  had  to  submit 
to  another  disappointment.  Instead  of  the  remaining 
scenes  of  the  First  Part,  which  I  now  expected  to 
have  as  a  matter  of  course,  came  scenes  of  a  new 
piece.  This  was  continued  until  I  began  to  take 
an  interest  in  its  characters,  when  it  was  broken 
off  abruptly  in  favor  of  a  third.  I  remonstrated. 
Colvil  promised  amendment,  but  begged  me  to 
let  him  go  on  with  the  last  play  he  had  begun.  "  I 
sometimes  feel,"  he  said,  "  a  particular  attraction 
towards  some  piece  of  work.  If  I  could  command 
all  my  hours,  I  would  not  indulge  myself  in  these 
caprices.  As  it  is,  I  find  by  experience  that  it  is 


198  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

an  economy  of  time.  When  my  fatigue  is  too 
great  to  allow  me  to  set  myself  task-work,  I  often 
find  it  suspended  by  an  employment  to  which  I  am 
involuntarily  drawn."  He  sent  me  then  the  first, 
second,  and  fifth  acts  of  the  new  piece,  and  some 
detached  scenes  from  the  third  and  fourth.  After 
this  he  returned  to  the  copying  of  the  First  Part 
of  the  "  Tragedy  of  Errors."  I  received  portions 
at  regular  intervals  without  further  interruption. 

It  was  on  a  stormy  evening  in  the  month  of  No 
vember  that  I  at  last  held  in  my  hand  the  comple 
tion  of  my  long  baffled  desire.  I  had  been  passing 
the  day  in  the  country.  I  returned  about  seven 
o'clock,  and  went  immediately  to  my  room  and  to 
the  little  table  near  my  writing-desk,  on  which 
were  placed  the  letters  and  notes  that  arrived 
in  my  absence.  I  chose  from  the  heap  the  ex 
pected  letter:  its  size  and  weight  answered  my 
question  before  I  broke  the  seal. 

My  room  was  in  the  back  of  the  house  and 
looked  upon  the  old-fashioned  garden.  The  rain 
beat  threateningly  against  the  windows,  through 
which  I  could  discern  a  wild  tossing  of  branches 

D 

and  a  driving  of  withered  leaves.  I  felt  a  thrill 
of  that  awe  by  which  man  is  subdued  in  the  pres 
ence  of  the  elements  when  they  put  forth  their 
power,  even  when  he  knows  himself  beyond  its 
reach.  On  my  side  of  the  transparent  barrier 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  199 

which  stood  between  me  and  the  gloom  and  tu 
mult  was  tranquillity  and  genial  glow.  The  soft 
flame  of  a  wood-fire,  nearly  burnt  out,  flickered 
on  the  hearth.  The  candles  were  already  lighted 
on  the  table  near  which  my  reading-chair  waited 
for  me.  The  impression  which  had  seemed  of 
foreboding,  but  was  only  a  touch  of  sympathy, 
passed  away.  I  seated  myself  with  a  sense  of 
satisfaction  which  was  almost  self-gratulation,  and 
gave  myself  up  to  the  pages  of  my  friend,  smiling 
to  think  that  the  rain  and  fitful  wind  which  were 
among  the  adjuncts  of  his  scene  would  be  better 
represented  for  me  that  evening  than  they  were 
ever  likely  to  be  on  the  stage. 

The  man  who  lives  much  alone  —  only  the  more 
alone,  if  he  have  many  acquaintances,  as  I  have  — 
finds  sympathies  and  analogies  where  they  are  not 
obvious  to  another  mind:  perhaps  because  his 
affections  and  fancy,  having  no  real  objects  to  in 
terest  them,  occupy  themselves  with  shadows  ;  per 
haps  because  in  his  solitude  he  attains  to  a  dim 
divination  of  hidden  relations,  and,  unbound  by 
the  stronger  and  closer  attachments  of  human  ex 
istence,  becomes  conscious  of  the  less  palpable  ties. 
It  has  often  appeared  to  me,  in  looking  back,  that 
some  mysterious  relation  between  the  spirit  of  Col- 
vil  and  my  own  gave  his  imagination  an  uncon 
scious  prophetic  power,  through  which  the  presen- 


200  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

tation  of  scenes  and  personages  that  had  no  resem 
blance  to  anything  I  was  conversant  with,  or  that 
I  was  probably  destined  to  encounter,  stirred  in  me 
monitions  of  chance  and  change.  In  the  early 
days  of  our  intercourse,  when  he  first  read  to  me 
from  his  dramas,  I  was  more  than  once  visited  by 
these  vague  intimations.  Passages  for  which  I 
had  then  no  application  fixed  themselves  in  my 
memory  by  some  attraction  whose  source  I  did 
not  explore,  and  came  up  to  me  long  after  as  the 
expression  of  my  own  feelings.  The  coincidence 
did  not  the  less  impress  me,  that  the  circumstances 
which  rendered  them  applicable  to  me  were  far 
other  than  those  with  which  Colvil  had  at  first 
combined  them. 

An  association  blended  of  likeness  and  oppo 
sition  connected  ColviFs  "Night"  with  a  night 
painfully  memorable  to  me.  I  had  so  completely 
lost  myself  in  the  imagined  scene,  that,  when,  as 
I  turned  the  last  leaf  of  the  manuscript,  a  sound 
was  heard  as  of  opening  and  closing  doors,  and 
then  of  quick  footsteps  approaching  my  room, 
the  real  mingled  for  an  instant  with  the  ideal, 
and  I  felt  myself  in  the  midst  of  the  agitation 
and  hurried  movement  of  a  household  among 
whom  death  has  appeared  suddenly.  My  name, 
spoken  in  a  tone  of  pressing  alarm,  recalled  me 
to  myself. 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  201 

There  was  no  time  to  be  lost,  if  I  would  receive 
the  parting  blessing  of  my  father. 

The  death-bed  to  which  I  had  been  summoned 
bore  no  resemblance  to  that  at  which  I  had  just 
been  present  in  imagination.  My  father,  a  man 
of  irreproachable  life,  of  frank  and  warm  affec 
tions,  was  closing,  in  the  fulness  of  years,  a  ca 
reer  whose  success  had  been  proportioned  to  its 
integrity.  He  had  been,  in  the  strictest  sense, 
a  man  of  business.  The  conduct  of  commercial 
affairs  had  been  not  only  the  occupation,  but  the 
pleasure  of  his  life.  He  had  been  lynx-eyed  for 
the  opportunities  of  increasing  his  wealth,  and  not 
less  prompt  in  action  than  keen  in  discernment. 
But  his  millions  had  rolled  up  without  exciting 
jealousy,  for  his  hand  was  as  large  to  dispense  as 
to  grasp.  He  had  never  forgotten  the  struggles 
of  his  youth.  The  man  who  was  beginning  the 
hard  ascent  that  he  had  surmounted  looked  to  him 
rather  with  expectation  than  with  envy ;  for  it 
was  known  to  be  his  joy,  where  he  discerned  a 
kindred  energy,  to  lighten  the  obstacles  that  im 
peded  it.  When,  after  his  retirement,  he  occa 
sionally  revisited  the  scene  of  his  former  activity, 
his  white  hairs  excited  a  movement  of  respect,  and 
many  an  intent  man  threw  aside  his  preoccupations 
and  pressed  forward  to  clasp  the  hand  which  had 
helped  him  up  the  difficult  first  rounds  of  Fortune's 


202  RECORD   OF  AN   OBSCURE  MAN. 

ladder,  or,  more  beneficent  still,  had  extended  res 
cue,  when  he  had  tottered  midway  in  the  ascent. 

My  father's  health,  which  had  never  before 
known  an  hour's  failure,  broke  down  suddenly  in 
his  sixty-third  year.  He  passed  from  vigor  to  old 
age  at  one  step.  He  lived  five  years  after  this 
change  took  place  in  him,  but  withdrew  from  the 
management  of  affairs  and  gradually  lost  his  interest 
in  them.  For  a  year  before  his  death  he  had  on 
ly  endured  existence,  and  had  spoken  continually 
of  his  release  as  of  something  wished  and  waited 
for.  Yet,  as  is  often  the  case  with  long-expected 
events,  the  closing  hour  came  upon  me  at  last  with 
all  the  effect  of  a  surprise.  As  I  stood  beside  that 
extended  form  and  looked  upon  the  still  features, 
which,  after  death,  retook  the  firm  and  benignant 
expression  of  former  days,  the  years  of  weakness 
and  dependence  which  had  intervened  seemed  ob 
literated.  An  unexpected  sense  of  orphanage  fell 
upon  me.  It  seemed  as  if  a  guardianship  had 
been  withdrawn  which  had  stood  between  me  and 
an  adverse  fate. 

My  sister  was  separated  from  me  by  a  great  dis 
tance  of  years,  and  still  more  by  the  seriousness 
and  reserve  of  her  character.  The  authority  which 
her  superiority  of  age  had  permitted  her  to  exer 
cise  over  my  childhood,  and  which,  replacing  the 
mild  rule  of  the  tenderest  of  mothers,  had  seemed 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  203 

to  me  austere,  had  established  associations  with 
her  presence  which  the  more  equal  intercourse  of 
after-years  could  not  wholly  efface.  When,  there 
fore,  her  husband  proposed  to  me  that  we  should 
continue  to  occupy  together  the  paternal  house, 
which,  by  the  request  of  my  father,  had  for  sev 
eral  years  been  their  home  as  well  as  mine,  I  de 
clined  this  arrangement,  though  I  was  sensible  it 
was  sincerely  desired  by  my  brother-in-law,  whom 
I  cordially  liked. 

I  removed,  then,  from  my  father's  house  to  a 
hotel,  where  I  established  myself,  with  my  little 
library  and  my  collections  of  coins  and  minerals, 
in  apartments  whose  size  and  appointments  cor 
responded  rather  with  my  fortune  than  my  wishes. 
They  had  been  selected  for  me  by  a  friend  who  had 
consulted  his  own  tastes  more  than  mine.  I  would 
gladly  have  transferred  to  him  the  enjoyment  of 
their  magnificence,  if  the  customs  of  our  time  had 
permitted  a  man  to  impose  an  obligation  of  this 
kind  on  his  equal.  The  useless  luxuries  that  charm 
the  imagination  of  him  who  cannot  command  them 
are  often  found  merely  troublesome  by  one  whose 
wealth  gives  him  the  power  to  have  or  to  reject 
them.  The  spaciousness  of  my  rooms  seemed  to 
render  them  only  more  dreary  and  unhomelike. 
The  gorgeous  modern  furniture  made  the  sense  of 
change  press  more  heavily  on  me,  contrasting  with 


204  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN". 

the  sober,  old-fashioned  elegance  of  my  father's 
house. 

I  was  not,  however,  left  solitary.  My  many 
friends  thronged  to  offer  condolence.  I  felt  that 
they  were  far  from  divining  that  I  might  really 
stand  in  need  of  it. 

In  the  midst  of  the  formal  friendships  and  hol 
low  intimacies  in  which  my  life  was  involved,  my 
mind  reverted  with  a  sense  of  rest  and  reliance  to 
the  ties  I  had  formed  for  myself  in  a  sphere  so  dis 
tant  and  so  different  from  my  own.  They  seemed 
to  me,  connecting  as  they  did  my  deeper  being  with 
the  emotions  of  a  simple  and  earnest  heart,  more 
real  than  any  yet  existing  in  which  birth  or  habit 
had  bound  me. 

While  my  thoughts  were  faithful  to  Colvil,  I  suf 
fered  the  many  small  cares  and  occupations  which 
necessarily  claimed  my  attention  at  that  period  to 
interrupt  my  correspondence  with  him.  When  I 
reopened  it,  it  was  to  find  that  the  time  had  ar 
rived,  which  I  now  know  arrives  infallibly,  when 
the  source  of  pleasure  must  be  converted  into  a 
source  of  pain. 

During  the  interval  between  Colvil's  last  let 
ter  and  my  tardy  reply,  the  part  of  the  coun 
try  in  which  his  farm  lay  had  been  visited  by  re 
peated  inundations,  which  had  occasioned  wide 
destruction  of  property  and  even  loss  of  life. 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  205 

His  own  lands  suffered;  his  house  was  spared, 
though  for  a  time  thought  to  be  in  danger.  He 
exerted  himself  through  several  successive  days 
and  nights  in  the  rescue  of  his  neighbors  and 
their  goods.  As  long  as  the  danger  lasted,  he  was 
insensible  to  fatigue  and  exposure,  but  was  pros 
trated  by  fever  as  soon  as  the  necessity  for  effort 
was  over.  He  gave  me  these  particulars  in  a 
short  letter  written  in  answer  to  mine.  The  fever 
had  then  left  him,  and  his  strength  was  slowly 
returning. 

A  few  weeks  after,  I  learned  from  him  that  he 
was  once  more  superintending  the  labors  of  his 
farm.  He  continued  to  write  to  me  regularly  dur 
ing  the  summer.  His  letters  left  on  my  mind  a 
sense  of  anxiety, — though,  studying  them  closely,  I 
found  nothing  in  their  contents  which  seemed  to  jus 
tify  it.  My  foreboding  was  answered  in  the  autumn, 
when  I  received  from  him  a  frank  and  full  com 
munication  on  the  subject  of  his  health.  The 
malady  which  had  proved  fatal  to  his  father  had 
declared  itself  by  unmistakable  signs.  At  the 
same  time  that  he  made  me  this  disclosure,  Col- 
vil  announced  his  intention  of  resisting  the  ad 
vances  of  disease  neither  by  remedies  nor  by  pru 
dence,  but  by  resolution  and  constant  occupation. 
"  I  begin  this  day,"  he  said,  "  the  work  on  the 
English  language  which  I  have  long  contemplated, 


206  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

and  for  which,  as  you  know,  I  have  been  collect 
ing  materials." 

He  forwarded  to  me  from  time  to  time,  during 
the  autumn  and  winter,  portions  of  this  work.  His 
labors  were  interrupted  in  the  spring  by  a  new 
attack  of  inflammation  of  the  lungs.  He  sur 
mounted  it ;  but  if  he  had  hitherto  been  under  any 
illusions  in  regard  to  his  state  of  health,  they  were 
now  dispelled.  I  refused,  however,  to  believe  in 
his  danger.  I  was  more  disturbed  by  my  appre 
hensions  while  they  were  vague  than  now  that 
they  had  a  definite  object.  I  recalled  many  in 
stances  of  persons  attacked  by  lung  complaints  at 
his  age,  who  had,  notwithstanding,  lived  to  be  old 
men.  I  persuaded  myself  that  change  of  air  and 
scene  was  all  that  was  needed  for  his  restoration. 
I  urged  him  to  come  to  me,  believing  that  the  com 
forts  and  distractions  I  could  offer  him  would  more 
than  counterbalance  the  greater  severity  of  climate. 
I  ought  to  have  gone  to  him.  But  I  was  detained 
in  New  York  by  some  intricate  affairs,  not  my  own, 
which  I  had  undertaken  to  untangle.  It  was  a  re 
sponsibility  which  I  had  inherited.  The  business 
was  a  delicate  one,  which  could  not  be  confided  to 
a  substitute,  nor  properly  postponed.  So  I  felt 
then.  It  was  one  of  those  barriers  between  us 
and  action  which  we  suffer  ourselves  to  think  im 
passable  while  the  decisive  time  is  going  by,  and 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  207 

which  we  perceive  to  have  been  of  gossamer  when 
the  neglect  has  become  irreparable. 

While  Edward's  health  declined,  that  of  his 
mother  seemed  strangely  to  revive.  "  I  cannot 
help  rejoicing  in  this  restoration,"  he  wrote, — "yet 
why  ?  It  will  only  secure  to  her  the  pain  of  sur 
viving  me." 

He  returned,  in  these  last  days,  to  the  subject 
of  our  early  conversations.  He  had  some  time  be 
fore  sketched  for  me  the  story  of  European  enter 
prise  in  Africa.  He  now  wrote,  more  fully  than 
he  had  yet  done,  of  the  Africans  themselves,  —  col 
lecting  from  early  and  late  authorities  evidence  of 
their  claims  to  respect,  and  showing  what  testimony 
had  been  borne,  even  by  unfriendly  witnesses,  to 
their  courage,  their  intelligence,  their  industry,  and 
their  humanity.  From  the  Africans  of  Africa  he 
passed  to  those  of  the  United  States,  and  gave  me 
his  views  of  their  characteristics  and  deserts.  "  I 
have  continued  to  write  to  you  on  this  subject,"  he 
said  in  conclusion,  "  because  I  have  seen  that  your 
interest  in  it  is  real,  and  you  are  in  a  position  to 
render  service  in  one  way  or  another  to  these  our 
disinherited  brothers,  who  cannot  plead  with  us 
for  themselves  unless  through  their  trust  and  help 
lessness." 

My  hopes  were  confirmed.  But  I  soon  found 
that  Colvil's  cheerfulness  had  another  source  than 


208  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

I  had  supposed.  He  was  not  looking  forward  to 
prolonged  life ;  he  had  reconciled  himself  with 
death.  He  was  ready  to  surrender  himself  into 
the  hands  of  his  Maker,  and  enter  whatever  sphere 
His  wisdom  judged  fittest. 

This  was  revealed  to  me  in  a  letter  full  of  ten 
derness,  which  I  received  in  October,  184  — . 
About  a  fortnight  after  came  one  from  his  moth 
er,  bringing  me  his  farewell  and  hers. 

Mrs.  Colvil  desired  me  to  consider  the  manu 
scripts  in  my  possession,  and  those  which  were  to 
be  forwarded  to  me  after  her  death,  as  my  own, 
and  to  do  with  them  what  my  judgment  and  my 
affection  for  the  writer  should  dictate.  She  rec 
ommended  to  my  protection  the  poor  lonely  Tab- 
itha,  who,  by  her  advice,  was  about  to  find  her 
new  home  in  a  Free  State.  A  few  lines,  added 
by  another  hand,  told  me  that  the  mother  and  son 
were  already  reunited. 

The  grief  of  this  bereavement  was  mitigated  to 
me  by  the  new  ties  I  soon  after  formed. 

My  wife,  beautiful  and  high-spirited,  lived  even 
more  in  the  actual  world  than  I  did.  The  legacy 
of  the  obscure  poet  could  have  no  importance  for 
her.  I  shrank  from  the  pain  of  an  unanswered 
claim  on  her  sympathy.  Perhaps  I  hesitated  to 
submit  the  objects  of  a  superstitious  affection  to 
her  impartial  judgment.  ColviPs  manuscripts  re- 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  209 

mained,  not  forgotten,  but  untouched,  in  the  draw 
ers  where  I  had  first  placed  them,  until  I  com 
mitted  them,  with  other  valuable  papers,  to  the 
charge  of  a  friend,  on  my  departure  for  Europe, 
a  few  years  after  my  marriage,  with  my  wife  and 
our  two  children. 

Our  time  in  Europe  passed  pleasantly  and  rapid 
ly.  I  was  recalled  by  the  sudden  death  of  the 
real  head  of  the  commercial  house  that  had  been 
founded  by  my  father,  and  of  which  I  was  nomi 
nally  the  senior  partner.  This  man  had  entered 
my  father's  service  in  a  humble  capacity,  but, 
showing  superior  abilities,  soon  obtained  employ 
ment  better  suited  to  them.  He  became  a  clerk 
in  the  house  in  which  he  had  been  errand-boy, 
and  was  gradually  advanced  by  his  own  talents 
and  my  father's  appreciation  of  them,  until  he  be 
came  the  partner  of  his  patron.  My  father  in  his 
latter  years  abandoned  to  him  entirely  the  conduct 
of  the  business.  I  gladly  left  it  in  his  hands  when 
I  succeeded  to  the  paternal  place  and  fortune. 

But  I  was  now  called  upon  to  look  into  my  af 
fairs,  and  either  to  assume  their  management  my 
self,  or  find  some  person  in  whom  I  could  repose 
the  same  confidence  I  had  placed  in  the  tried  pupil 
and  associate  of  my  father.  I  felt  this  summons  to 
immerse  myself  in  business  as  an  unpleasant  inter 
ruption  of  my  life  of  leisure,  but  I  was  far  from 
14 


210  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

foreboding  the  changes  of  which  it  was  the  pre 
cursor. 

I  had  lived  in  New  York  from  my  childhood, 
but  the  memory  of  an  earlier  home  had  always 
been  cherished  in  my  father's  house.  My  wife 
was  of  New  York  both  by  birth  and  predilection. 
Not  even  Paris  could  supersede  it  in  her  regard. 
She  easily  consoled  herself  for  the  curtailment  of 
our  European  plans,  and  looked  forward  gayly  to 
finding  herself  among  old  scenes  and  old  acquaint 
ances.  She  enjoyed,  too,  the  prospect  of  entering 
once  more  the  domain  of  which  she  had  been 
queen,  and  of  reassuming  the  cares  and  dignities  of 
domestic  government.  As  we  approached  the  shore, 
her  pleasure  in  the  return  was  so  lively,  she  was  so 
animated  in  recounting  her  various  projects  and  in 
picturing  the  comforts  of  our  future  life,  that  I  found 
my  own  thoughts  gradually  drawn  into  the  same 
channel,  and  my  last  regrets  for  Europe  faded  as  I 
imagined  myself  again  seated  by  my  own  fireside, 
among  my  own  pictures  and  my  own  books,  and 
taking  up  once  more  all  the  old  familiar  habits. 

My  brother-in-law  came  down  to  the  steamer 
to  meet  us.  My  first  glance  at  his  face  told  me 
he  was  not  there  merely  to  welcome  me. 

"  What  is  it  ?  What  have  I  to  learn  ?  "  He  had 
come  to  announce  to  me  his  own  ruin  and  mine. 

The  insolvency  of  the  commercial  house  in  which 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  211 

my  sister's  fortune  as  well  as  my  own  was  invested 
had  been  whispered  at  the  death-bed  of  its  active 
head ;  it  had  been  proclaimed  as  soon  as  the  funer 
al  solemnities  were  over.  The  credit  of  the  house 
was  deeply  buried  under  the  mass  of  claims  before 
I  arrived  to  take  my  part  in  the  labors  and  humilia 
tions  which  devolved  on  the  surviving  partners. 
Its  embarrassments  were  of  long  date.  They  had 
their  origin  in  the  daring  schemes  of  the  adventur 
ous  spirit  that  had  had  the  control  of  its  affairs. 
Beginning  the  world  with  no  capital  but  his  own 
energy  and  craft,  he  had  steadily  advanced  in  pros 
perity  up  to  the  time  when  he  was  left  to  wield  alone 
the  immense  resources  of  the  firm  in  which  he  had 
been  a  subordinate.  He  was  then  at  the  pinnacle 
of  success.  But  his  was  not  a  mind  to  repose  upon 
victory.  It  was  not  cupidity  that  actuated  him, 
nor  a  desire  for  the  splendors  and  indulgences  of 
wealth : — he  lived  frugally  ;  his  family  retained  the 
habits  of  earlier  years: — it  was  pure  ambition,  the 
love  of  conquest.  When  he  found  the  battle  turn 
ing  against  him,  he  did  not  despair  of  his  fortune 
or  his  strength.  He  maintained  for  years  a  hand- 
to-hand  contest  with  ruin,  disputing  every  inch  of 
ground,  and  laying  down  his  arms  at  last  only  at 
the  edge  of  the  grave.  Peace  to  his  memory! 
He  sleeps  with  Napoleon  and  the  other  baffled 
ambitious. 


212  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

The  first  time  I  entered  what  had  been  my  own 
door,  it  was  in  company  with  the  auctioneer  who 
was  to  preside  over  the  desecration  of  my  house 
hold  gods. 

I  did  not  bear  my  reverses  with  equanimity.  I 
maintained  an  outward  composure,  but  I  suffered 
keenly.  The  changed  prospects  of  my  children 
tortured  me  to  that  degree  that  their  presence  was 
almost  a  pain  to  me.  It  seemed  as  if  my  very  love 
for  them  was  obscured  by  my  care  for  their  in 
terests. 

My  wife  retained  her  cheerfulness  through  all. 
One  would  have  thought  she  had  been  all  her  life 
practising  the  art  of  making  a  little  go  its  farthest. 
She  appeared  to  enjoy  her  triumphs  in  this  line, 
and  made  light  of  privation  and  fatigue.  But 
her  courage  failed  to  cheer  me.  I  questioned 
the  reality  of  her  fortitude,  conscious  of  the  un- 
soundness  of  my  own.  Wealth,  which  I  thought 
I  hardly  valued  while  I  had  it,  appeared  now  the 
supreme  good.  Life  had  but  one  thing  to  offer  me : 
the  restoration  of  my  fortune.  During  the  months 
of  forced  inactivity  which  followed  my  change  of 
condition,  my  impatience  was  exasperated  by  the 
consciousness  that  my  reputation  as  an  indolent 
man  of  leisure  must  act  as  an  obstacle  to  my 
desires. 

Let  me  not  be  misunderstood.     I  have  nothing 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.       213 

to  say  of  summer  friends,  or  of  "  hard  unkindness' 
altered  eye."  Those  who  had  been  kind  before 
were  kinder  now.  Marks  of  sympathy  and  offers 
of  service  came  to  us  from  persons  who  had  never 
made  any  profession  of  regard  in  the  season  of  our 
prosperity.  Men  whom  I  had  formerly  benefited, 
and  who  had  never  before  spoken  of  a  sense  of  ob 
ligation,  came  forward  to  express  their  gratitude, 
and  to  ask  me  to  point  out  a  way  for  them  to  prove 
it.  To  all  these  proposals  I  had  one  answer:  — 
"  Open  me  a  way  to  work." 

The  opening  was  found.  A  post  was  offered  me 
in  a  distant  part  of  the  world.  The  climate  was 
unhealthy,  but  the  compensation  was  in  proportion 
to  the  risk.  Besides,  the  position  was  one  which 
might  offer  great  opportunities  to  a  man  who 
knew  how  to  avail  himself  of  them.  I  did  not 
hesitate. 

My  wife  wished  to  go  with  me.  I  did  not  con 
sent.  The  climate  would  have  been  fatal  to  the 
young  constitution  of  our  children,  —  now  three 
in  number,  —  and  I  could  not  take  their  mother 
from  them. 

Circumstances  favored  me.  I  had  the  courage 
and  the  clear  sight  of  a  destitute  man.  At  the 
end  of  three  years  I  might  have  gone  home  satis 
fied.  My  wife  urged  my  return.  But  now  I 
would  secure  to  my  family,  not  only  ease,  but  the 


214  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN. 

old  profusion.  So  keen  was  my  interest  in  my  work 
that  I  was  hardly  conscious  of  the  lapse  of  time. 

I  was  recalled  to  a  sense  of  it  by  news  of  the 
death  of  my  wife,  who  had  sunk,  worn  out  by 
anxiety  and  hope  deferred.  This  event,  for  which 
her  letters,  always  cheerful,  though  sometimes  ten 
derly  reproachful,  had  not  prepared  me,  waked  me 
to  a  keen  remorse.  I  quieted  it  by  resolving  to 
make  the  only  atonement  in  my  power,  by  devot 
ing  myself  more  than  ever  to  the  interests  of  her 
children.  I  gave  myself  with  greater  ardor  than 
before  to  the  reconstruction  of  my  fortune.  Death 
struck  again  and  again  before  I  came  to  the  con 
sciousness,  that,  while  I  was  gathering  gold,  the  real 
treasures  of  my  life  were  passing  from  me  unen- 
joyed.  The  flood  of  parental  tenderness,  so  long 
diked  off,  suddenly  burst  through  and  inundated 
my  whole  being.  I  could  not  make  my  arrange 
ments  for  the  return  fast  enough. 

It  is  not  my  own  history  that  I  am  here  to  re 
late.  I  need  not,  then,  tell  of  the  happiness  of  res 
toration  to  my  only  child,  —  of  the  anxiety  that 
broke  in  upon  it,  —  of  the  voyage  to  Cuba,  —  of 
the  grave  I  left  there.  It  is  enough  to  say  that  I 
am  now  alone  with  my  wealth. 

Having  no  interests  in  the  present  or  the  future, 
I  live  in  the  past :  not  the  near  past ;  its  regrets  are 
still  too  bitter. 


RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN.  215 

I  find  a  frequent  solace  in  retracing  the  episode 
of  my  acquaintance  with  Colvil.  I  have  taken 
from  the  trunk,  where  I  put  them  on  my  depar 
ture  for  Europe,  the  manuscripts  confided  to  me 
in  their  freshness  with  so  many  hopes  and  doubts, 
but  now  dim  and  discolored  by  time,  and  having 
interest  for  no  human  eye  but  mine. 

I  have  read  them  over:  not  critically,  —  I  am 
even  less  a  judge  of  literary  works  than  in  my 
youth,  — but  taking  all  for  granted,  and  giving  my 
self  up  to  them.  I  feel  that  I  could  again  answer 
the  question  I  saw  in  Colvil's  eye,  when  he  had 
concluded  his  first  evening's  reading,  as  I  did  then  : 
Yes,  it  interests  me.  It  even  seems  that  now 
deeper  chords  in  my  being  are  touched,  and  that 
I  comprehend  better  the  scope  of  the  writer  than 
when  I  sat  by  his  side  and  listened  to  his  voice. 
Perhaps  my  sympathies,  quickened  and  enlarged 
by  suffering,  are  now  more  capable  of  follow 
ing  his.  I  feel,  as  I  did  not  then,  the  force 
of  the  motto  he  had  written  in  pencil  on  one 
of  the  blank  leaves  of  the  "Tragedy  of  Er 
rors:"— 

"Aux  plus  d^sWrit^s  le  plus  d'amour." 

I  called  to  mind  the  hopes  of  which  I  had 
been  the  confidant,  and  asked  myself  whether  the 
trembling  prayer  of  the  mother,  that  her  son's 
life  on  this  earth  should  not  be  wholly  in  vain,, 


216  RECORD  OF  AN  OBSCURE  MAN". 

might  not  be  answered  through  me.     I  have  ven 
tured  to  make  the  trial. 

I  know  it  is  very  possible  I  am  under  the  in 
fluence  of  an  illusion.  Perhaps,  having  so  familiar 
ized  myself  with  Colvil's  creations  that  they  have 
almost  become  a  part  of  my  life,  as  they  once  were 
of  his,  I  have  lost  the  power  of  distinguishing  be 
tween  their  real  interest  and  that  which  my  af 
fection  and  my  isolation  have  lent  them.  If  this 
be  so, — if,  in  doing  what  I  regard  as  an  act  of 
duty,  I  am  in  fact  committing  an  indiscretion, — if 
the  gift  which  I  offer  in  the  name  of  my  friend 
be  not  found  worthy  of  acceptance, — the  mistake 
is  not  his.  Let  it  count  as  one  more  among  the 
errors  of  my  life.  It  will  remain  to  me  but  to 
avow  it,  and  to  ask  pardon  of  the  public  and  of 
him. 


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